HE 


ATH 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 


THE   BREATH  OF 
THE  GODS 


BY 

SIDNEY    McCALL 

AUTHOR  OF  "TRUTH  DEXTER " 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1905 


Copyright,  1905, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  May,  1905 


THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,  U.  3.  A. 


BECAUSE    OF   FAITH    AND    REVERENCE, 
AND    IN    SPITE    OF   ERRORS    WHICH    I    KNOW   TO   BE 

INEVITABLE, 
I    DARE    INSCRIBE    THIS    BOOK    TO 

YAMATO  DAMASHII 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

No  character  in  this  book,  belonging  either  to  public  or 
private  life,  is  taken  as  a  whole  or  in  part  from  any  person. 
The  characters  are  wholly  imaginary,  and  no  incident  is 
based  on  any  real  incident  known  to  the  writer.  Even  in 
the  descriptions  of  official  buildings,  memory  is  laxly  used. 
In  the  genre  studies  alone  is  realism  attempted.  Most,  if 
not  all,  of  the  questions,  remarks,  and  speculations  put  into 
the  mouths  of  peasants  and  servants  have  been  overheard 
by  the  writer. 


THE 

BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 


CHAPTER  ONE 

THE  stone  dwelling  of  Senator  Cyrus  C.  Todd,  usually  as 
indistinguishable  from  its  neighbors  as  is  one  piano  key  from 
another,  presented  at  nine  o'clock  on  this  night  of  November 
third,  nineteen  hundred  and  three,  a  claim  to  individuality  in 
the  excess  of  light  pouring  from  every  window,  from  the  per- 
pendicular wink  of  every  opening  door  (opened  but  to  close 
again  as  quickly)  ;  oozing,  it  would  seem,  from  the  very  pores 
of  the  pale  faqade,  thereby  giving  to  the  great  flat  rectangle 
of  the  house  a  phosphorescent  value  that  set  it  six  feet  out 
into  the  night. 

The  upper  windows  shone  more  brilliantly  than  those  below. 
A  roller  shade  had  been  carelessly  left  high.  Through  the 
film  of  chamber  curtains  heads  could  be  seen  passing.  Once, 
there  was  the  outflung  gesture  of  a  slim,  bare  arm.  Every- 
thing bespoke  approaching  festivity.  At  this  brightest  win- 
dow a  silhouette  suddenly  appeared,  sharp,  dark,  complete. 
It  was  that  of  a  Japanese  girl  with  wonderfully  looped  and 
curved  coiffure,  shoulders  that  sloped  tenderly,  and  a  small, 
straight  throat. 

Just  at  this  moment,  on  the  shadowed  entrance-steps  below, 
answering  silhouettes  began  noiselessly  to  climb.  These 
were  men  with  thin  black  legs,  and  strange  burdens,  black 
like  themselves.  They  showed  angles  as  of  gnarled  roots  ; 
one,  the  great  curved  body  of  a  gigantic  spider.  The  front 
door,  opening  instantly  to  a  ring,  disclosed  them  merely  as 
musicians,  —  Signer  Marcellini  of  Milan  and  his  colleagues,  — 
bearing  basso,  cello,  and  flutes,  secure  in  swart  cases. 

l 


2  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

The  lower  rooms  of  the  house  were  slightly  chill.  Though 
flooded  with  soft  light,  they  were  not  yet  fully  illuminated. 
All  doors  within  stood  open.  It  looked  almost  as  if  walls  had 
been  taken  down,  so  long  and  mysterious  had  grown  the  vistas. 
Through  all  tingled  an  aromatic  smell,  something  a  little  alien, 
like  crushed  herbs,  —  pungent,  and  full  of  vague  suggestion. 
Mrs.  Cyrus  C.  Todd,  flowing  now  down  the  palm-set  stairway 
in  a  purple  tide  of  skirts,  frothed  with  dim  lace,  stopped  at  a 
switchboard  half  concealed  in  vines,  sent  forth  a  gloved,  de- 
termined hand,  and  in  an  instant  the  secret  of  the  odor  was 
revealed.  The  rooms,  to  their  farthest  angles,  literally  ex- 
uded chrysanthemums.  Senator  Todd  was  said  to  have  ex- 
pended five  thousand  dollars  for  these  flowers  alone.  Perhaps 
he  wished  to  stamp  in  gold  upon  the  memory  of  Washington 
this  coming-out  party  of  his  idolized,  only  child.  The  conceit 
was  fair  enough,  for  Gwendolen  was  bright,  and  blonde,  and 
golden  in  herself.  Statesmen  and  the  wives  of  statesmen  did 
not  fail  to  observe  that  chrysanthemums  were  the  insignia  of 
official  Japan,  and  that  November  third  happened,  —  they 
emphasized  "happened,"  —  to  be  the  birthday  of  Japan's  be- 
loved Emperor.  These  two  facts,  joined  with  the  third,  that 
Senator  Todd  even  now  had  aspirations  to  the  Tokio  mission, 
made  a  trio  of  keen  angles  to  be  used  as  wedges  for  further 
speculation. 

The  walls  of  the  lower  story  had  been  spread  for  the  occa- 
sion with  yellow  satin,  upon  which  alternated  delicate  upright 
strokes  of  silver  and  of  white.  Around,  under  the  .ceiling, 
grew  a  frieze  of  living  flowers.  The  great,  coarse,  woody 
stems  crossed  in  a  lattice-work,  with  clusters  of  huge  blossoms 
and  green  leaves  breaking  the  angles  at  points  of  decision 
possible  only  to  a  trained  artist,  or  to  a  Japanese.  The  white 
duck  floor-covering  spread  to  a  border  hand-painted,  to  match 
the  frieze.  Where  wall  and  canvas  met,  the  real  flowers  again 
arose,  —  thick  parallel  stalks  of  differing  heights,  upholding 
a  wainscot  border  of  shaggy  gold.  Mantles  were  heaped  with 
them.  Japanese  pots  of  them  in  bloom  alternated  with  con- 
ventional ferns  and  palms.  Each  electric  bulb  jutted  from 
the  heart  of  a  living  flower.  The  very  air  had  an  amber  tone. 

Overhead,  invisible  footsteps  scurried  in  short  flights.    They 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  3 

sounded  feminine,  young,  full  of  excitement.  "  Heavens  !  " 
Miss  Gwendolen  de  Lancy  Todd  was  crying,  "  where  on  earth  is 
my  other  glove?  I  am  sure  I  just  laid  it  here !  And  my 
orchids  !  Has  anybody  sat  on  my  orchids  ?  I  think  I  '11  have 
to  marry  the  young  person  who  sent  them,  though  I  forget 
now  who  it  was  !  " 

"  A  person  of  the  name  Dodge,  n'est-ce-pas  ?  "  ventured  the 
little  French  dressmaker,  on  her  knees  beside  the  fair  white 
vision.  Pins,  retained  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  added  a 
crushed  softness  to  the  pronunciation.  She  rhymed  it  with 
"  targe." 

"  Yes,  a  name  like  that,  I  believe,"  said  Gwendolen,  indif- 
ferently, and  craned  her  long  neck  over.  "  Mother  called  him 
some  sort  of  a  snip.  Are  you  certain  that  my  dress  hangs 
right  now,  Madame  ?  " 

"Oui,  oui.  It  is  perfection,"  declared  Madame,  sticking 
the  remaining  pins  into  the  black  front  of  her  dress. 

"Then  at  last  I  am  actually  ready.  I  believe  there's 
mother  calling  now.  Where  did  Yuki  go?  Oh,  I  see,  over 
there  by  the  window,  as  calm  and  cool  as  if  we  were  going  to 
church  instead  of  to  our  first  ball !  " 

"  Then  all  my  coolness  is  stopping  on  my  outsides,"  said  the 
Japanese  girl,  with  a  little  incipient  shrug  and  giggle,  break- 
ing at  once  into  the  merriest  of  low  laughs.  She  crossed  the 
room  swiftly,  with  an  unusual,  swaying  rhythm  of  movement. 
"  Ah,  Gwendolen,  my  heart  it  go  like  yellow  butterflies  to  be 
downstairs." 

Gwendolen  turned  a  radiant  face  to  greet  her.  "  Now  is  n't 
she  a  vision !  "  cried  the  girl  aloud,  in  fresh  access  of  admi- 
ration for  her  friend.  "  Madame,  what  do  you  think  those 
French  painters  of  yours  would  say  to  her  —  Chavannes,  De 
Monvel,  Besnard,  —  who  owe  so  much  to  Yuki's  art  ?  " 

"You  omit  Monsieur  Le  Beau,  who  is  a  painter,"  said  the 
little  woman,  shyly.  She  was  on  good  terms  with  the  girls,  and 
had  made  Yuki,  as  well  as  Gwendolen,  chic  gowns  with  the 
breath  of  Paris  upon  them.  "I  knew  well  the  family  of 
Monsieur  Le  Beau  in  France,"  she  hurried  on,  seeing  the  dis- 
tressed flush  in  Yuki's  face.  "  Non,  non,  Mamselles.  I  am  a 
chattering  old  f emme.  Let  me  look  at  you  together  before  you 


4  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

descend  the  stair."  She  sat  back  upon  her  heels  to  enjoy 
the  picture. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Gwendolen,  "  that 's  right.  Take  us  both  in." 
Laughingly  she  drew  Yuki's  arm,  with  its  long,  trailing  sleeve 
of  gray,  tightly  within  her  own.  They  rested  together,  sway- 
ing, —  smiling,  —  Yuki's  cheek  still  warm  with  the  name  of 
Pierre  Le  Beau,  two  types  as  far  apart  as  the  two  sides  of 
earth  which  had  given  them  race. 

Gwendolen  was  fair  almost  to  the  extreme  of  golden  blond- 
ness.  Her  features  were  small  and  perfectly  related ;  her  nose 
deliciously  interrogative  at  the  tip.  Her  brows  and  lashes, 
drawn  in  a  darker  hue,  gave  touches  of  character  and  distinc- 
tion. She  was  very  slender,  erect,  and  was  poised  as  though  she 
grew  in  the  wind.  The  long  tulle  draperies  shook  and  stirred 
as  if  vitalized  by  her  energy.  She  was  all  white  and  gold. 
Her  heaped-up  skeins  of  hair,  amber  necklace,  gloves,  slip- 
pers, and  stockings  gleamed  with  a  primrose  hue,  and  the 
freckles  on  her  orchids  (poor  flowers,  just  caught  up  hastily 
from  an  ignominious  corner)  repeated  the  yellow  note. 

Beside  her,  Yuki  Onda,  a  few  inches  lacking  in  height,  im- 
pressive, nevertheless,  and  held  with  a  striking  yet  indefinable 
difference  of  line,  smiled  out  like  a  frail  Astarte.  Her  pallor 
had  an  undernote  of  ivory,  where  Gwendolen's  was  of  pearl. 
Her  head,  with  its  pointed  chin,  bore,  like  a  diadem  of  jet,  — 
balanced,  like  a  regal  burden,  —  the  spread  wings  of  her  hair. 
Beneath  a  white,  low  brow  her  eyes  made  almost  a  continuous, 
gleaming  line.  The  little  nose  came  down,  straight  and  firm, 
with  a  single  brush  stroke.  All  the  humanity,  the  tenderness, 
the  womanhood  of  her  face  lay  in  the  red  mouth  and  the  small, 
round  chin.  Her  smile  was  startling,  even  pathetic,  in  beauty. 
Gwendolen  had  once  said,  "There  is  sometimes  something 
in  Yuki's  smile  that  makes  me  want  to  fight  God  for  her." 

Yuki's  robe,  in  deference  to  hours  of  pleading  from  Gwen- 
dolen and  Pierre  Le  Beau,  was  Japanese  to  the  least  detail. 
Mrs.  Todd  had  protested  in  vain  for  the  "civilized"  coming- 
out  gown  of  white.  The  robe  hung  about  the  girl  in  long, 
loose  folds  of  crepe,  mist-gray,  rising  in  soft  transitions  from 
the  dark  band  of  the  hem  to  pearl  tones  at  the  throat.  Under 
it  were  garments  of  heavier  silk,  dawn-colored,  showing 


THE   BREATH   OF  THE   GODS  5 

like  morning  through,  thin  clouds.  Into  the  curdled  sub- 
stance of  the  cr§pe,  cherry-flowers  were  dyed,  or  rather, 
breathed  in,  by  a  smiling,  wrinkled  brown  magician  at  the  rim 
of  Yuzen  Creek,  —  pale  shapes  which  glimmered  and  were 
gone,  rose  to  the  surface  and  sank  again,  as  though  borne  in 
moving  water.  Besides  the  black  note  of  her  hair  there  was 
one  strong  crash  of  contrast  in  the  obi,  or  sash,  a  broad  and 
dominating  zone,  black,  too,  with  fire-flies  of  gold  upon  it. 
For  hair-ornaments  she  wore  a  cluster  of  small  pink  flowers 
that  had  the  look  of  cherry-blooms,  and  a  great  carved  ivory 
pin,  pronged  like  a  tuning-fork,  an  heirloom  in  her  father's 
family. 

"  Gwendo — len  !  Yu — kee  f  Come  down  instantly  !  "  rose  the 
voice  of  Mrs.  Todd.  "You  should  have  been  down  ten 
minutes  ago." 

"Ah,  Madame  Todd  calls,"  exclaimed  the  dressmaker, 
scrambling  to  her  feet. 

"  But  you  are  sure  you  really  admire  us,  Madame  ?  "  chal- 
lenged Gwendolen,  before  she  would  stir. 

"  Oui,  charmante,  charmante,  both  are  perfection  apart  —  and 
a  vision  of  paradise  together.  But  go,  young  ladies,  the  good 
mother  calls  again." 

The  spoiled  child  stopped  for  another  instant,  this  time  in 
the  doorway.  "  All  right,  mother.  Coming  this  instant ! " 
she  hurled  downstairs;  then  to  the  little  Frenchwoman  she 
said,  "  Do  not  attempt  to  sit  up,  Madame.  Yuki  is  to  stay  all 
night,  and  will  help  me  with  the  pins.  After  a  glimpse  at  the 
reception  and  some  of  the  goodies  below,  you  must  hurry  home 
to  your  little  Jeanne.  Take  plenty  of  bonbons  with  you,  and 
I  wish  to  send  that  great  bunch  of  daisies,  with  my  love.  All 
children  love  daisies,  n'est-ce-pas  ?  " 

At  last  they  were  off.  Madame  could  hear  Mrs.  Todd,  re- 
lieved, yet  petulant,  scolding  them  the  whole  descending  scale 
of  the  stairs.  Moving  through  the  perfumed  disorder  of  the 
room,  Madame  sought  out  the  daisies,  and,  with  filling  eyes, 
whispered  aloud  in  French,  "Now  may  the  good  God  be  kind 
to  that  loving  heart,  and  send  to  it  only  blessing." 

Stockings,  scarfs,  fans,  underwear,  —  a  thousand  dainty 
trifles  must  be  gathered  up  before  the  little  Frenchwoman 


6  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

could  give  herself  consent  to  go.  Madame  and  Miss  Todd  had 
been  kind  friends  to  the  widowed  exile. 

Far  over  to  one  side  of  the  room  she  stumbled  upon  a  dark 
heap  that  showed  gleams  of  a  cherry-colored  lining.  It 
emitted,  as  if  consciously,  an  aroma,  subtle,  faint,  unforget- 
able,  strange  scented  echoes  of  a  distant  land.  It  was  Yuki's 
long  black  "  adzunia-coat,"  worn  from  the  Japanese  Legation, 
where  Baroness  Kanrio  and  the  maids  had  assisted  her  to 
dress,  and  which,  in  this  bright  room,  she  had  slipped  laugh- 
ingly to  the  floor  and  forgotten.  Madame  held  it  out  for  a 
moment.  Then  she  folded  and  laid  it  softly  on  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  Her  expression  had  changed  slightly.  As  if  with 
relief,  she  snatched  up  a  dressing-gown  of  blue  flannel,  that 
cried  "Gwendolen"  from  every  turquoise  fold. 

"  Gwendolen,  where  is  your  father  hiding  ? "  demanded 
Mrs.  Todd,  severely,  as  the  two  girls  reached  the  hall. 

"  Why,  how  should  I  know  ?  Dad  has  n't  worried  my  mind. 
Is  n't  Yuki  simply  a  dream  of  spring  ?  " 

"You  forget  that  I  have  admired  Yuki  upstairs,"  said  the 
harassed  matron,  and  turned  her  back.  "  There 's  another 
carriage  sounding  as  if  it  wanted  to  stop  !  Every  wheel  goes 
over  my  nerve-centre.  Cy,  Cy — rus !  Where  is  that  wretched 
man?  The  musicians  should  be  playing  now.  The  guests 
will  pour  in  any  instant.  There  is  a  carriage  stopping !  It 
has  stopped !  Heavens,  I  shall  go  mad !  " 

"  Shall  Yuki  and  I  run  for  the  drawing-room,  mother  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  dear.  Eight  under  that  tallest  palm.  Be  sure  to 
stand  ahead  of  Yuki.  Cyrus  !  Cy — rus  !  Oh,  he  is  never  any- 
where when  I  want  him."  Her  wails  preceded  her  down  the  hall. 

"  Are  you  looking  for  me,  dear  ?  "  asked  the  senator,  inno- 
cently, strolling  out  in  a  leisurely  manner  from  his  study, 
where,  against  orders,  he  had  been  smoking  a  cigar. 

"  Am  I ! "  panted  his  wife.  "  And  you  've  been  smoking !  " 
But  indignation  must  be  swept  aside.  "  The  carriages  are 
stopping,  man  !  Don't  you  hear  them  ?  I  '11  be  in  bed  for  a 
month  if  I  live  through  this  night !  Start  up  the  musicians, 
and  join  us  immediately  in  the  front  drawing-room." 

"  Musicians,  —  musicians.  ?  "  murmured  Cyrus,  looking  about, 
"  where  are  the  musicians  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  7 

"Not  under  the  hatrack,  nor  yet  in  my  china-closet,"  cried 
his  lady,  with  angry  vehemence.  "  Over  there  !  Yes,  there  — 
where  you  saw  the  piano  wheeled  this  afternoon;  behind 
that  hedge  of  chrysanthemums ! " 

"Oh,  yes,  there  in  the  duck-shooters'  lodge.  All  right,  old 
lady.  I  '11  start  'em.  Don't  get  excited !  " 

Guests  now  streamed  upstairs  toward  the  dressing-rooms. 
Signer  Marcellini  began  his  most  seductive  waltz  ;  and  the 
senator  stood  beside  his  heaving  spouse  just  as  the  first 
smiling  acquaintance  crossed  the  door-sill. 

"Ah,  Governor!  Ah,  my  dear  Mrs.  Jink!"  chortled  Mrs. 
Todd.  "This  is  surely  a  good  omen,  —  my  daughter's  first 
official  congratulations  to  come  from  you.  Gwendolen,  let  me 
present  Governor  Jink  and  Mrs.  Jink,  fresh  from  our  own 
dear  Western  state.  Miss  Yuki  Onda  of  Tokio,  Mrs.  Jink,  — 
Gwendolen's  most  intimate  school-friend,  and  my  Oriental 
daughter,  as  I  call  her.  Ah,  Sir  George  !  Punctuality  is  one 
of  the  British  virtues.  Mrs.  Blachouse,  my  daughter,  Miss 
Todd." 

The  reception  swung  now,  full  and  free,  into  the  sparkling 
waters  of  felicity.  Laughter,  lights,  and  the  rustling  of  silken 
skirts  on  inner  mysteries  of  silk;  music  held  back  by  the 
multitudinous  small  sounds  of  human  intercourse,  with  now 
and  then  a  protesting  wail  from  violins  and  the  guttural  short 
snore  of  a  cello  !  Laughter,  and  the  clink  of  glasses  on  metal 
trays,  the  scraping  of  spoons  against  porcelain,  tinkling  of 
ice  in  fragile  vessels,  and  incessantly  the  shuffle  of  footsteps 
on  soundless,  unseen  floors !  -  Perfumes  of  dying  flowers  and 
foliage,  odors  of  essences,  fumes  of  fresh-cut  lemons,  and  of 
wine ! 

Outside,  at  the  curbing,  a  continuous  roar  and  rattling  of 
carriages  went  on.  The  covered  entrance-way,  like  an  elastic 
tent  drawn  out,  sheltered  a  thin  moving  stream  of  faces. 
Behind  them  the  scrape  of  wheels,  stamping  of  horses,  and 
vociferous  bawling  of  drivers  sent  a  premonitory  tingling 
through  the  blood.  At  intervals  there  came  the  snort  and 
hiss  of  that  modern  Fafnir,  the  automobile,  followed  by  the 
nauseating  taint  of  gasoline. 

To  Gwendolen  and  Yuki  it  seemed  as  if  the  line  of  visitors 


8  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

would  never  end.  "Yuki,  Yuki,"  whispered  the  former, 
"  if  they  keep  popping  by  like  this,  each  with  that  wooden 
grin,  I  shall  certainly  go  into  hysterics!  Did  you  see  how 
nearly  I  broke  down  in  the  face  of  that  last  fat  lady  in  tight 
gray  sleeves?  She  looked  like  a  young  rhinoceros  in  its 
little  sister's  skin." 

"  I  no  longer  perceive  anybody  at  all,"  said  Yuki,  tranquilly. 
"  I  only  see  the  small  duck  called  '  oshi-dori '  bobbing  down, 
then  up,  on  the  Sumida  River." 

"  Hush ! "  whispered  Mrs.  Todd,  in  evident  excitement. 
"  Here  comes  the  Russian  ambassador  with  his  entire  suite. 
I  was  wondering  whether  he  would  snub  us  because  of  the 
war-talk,  and  Yuki,  and  the  chrysanthemums,  and  the 
Mikado's  birthday !  Now,  girls,  smile  your  sweetest ! " 

But  the  good  lady  was  given  a  surprise.  Yuki  leaned  back 
to  touch  her  arm.  At  the  look  of  irritated  inquiry  the  Jap- 
anese girl  said  clearly,  "  You  must  excuse  me  from  this,  dear 
Mrs.  Todd;  I  cannot  shake  hands  with  that  person.  If  I 
shook,  I  would  be  the  hypocrite."  Without  waiting  for  per- 
mission or  remonstrance,  she  turned  and  hurried  from  the 
direction  in  which  the  Muscovites  now  approached.  Mr. 
Todd,  with  hand  already  extended  in  welcome,  saw  nothing 
of  the  little  by-play.  Gwendolen  heard,  sympathized  entirely 
with  Yuki,  but  wisely  held  her  peace.  Mrs.  Todd,  after  a 
gasp  of  outraged  dignity,  recalled  herself,  perforce,  for  the 
new  greetings. 

Yuki  had  slipped  from  the  line  quietly  enough.  She 
walked  away  now  quite  slowly  and  with  apparent  calm. 
Within,  she  was  turmoil  and  distress.  Had  she  done  right  ? 
Had  she  offended,  beyond  forgiveness,  her  kind  friends,  the 
Todds  ?  But,  looking  from  the  opposite  point,  how  could  she 
touch,  even  in  social  insincerity,  the  hand  of  a  man  whom 
she  felt  by  instinct  to  be  a  subtle  enemy  of  her  native  land  ? 
This  very  minister  was  suspected  by  many  to  be  one  of  the 
strongest  who  urged  the  weak  Czar  into  insult  and  hostility. 
Would  Mrs.  Todd  reprove  her  publicly  ?  Would  Baron 
Kanrio,  when  he  heard,  defend  the  childish  impulse  ? 

A  greater  one  than  Kanrio  would  soon  be  here.  In  the 
agitation  of  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  that  tremendous 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  9 

fact.  Prince  Hagane,  her  father's  feudal  lord,  or  daiinyo, 
often  called  the  "  Living  War-God  of  Japan,"  was  to  come, 
for  a  few  moments,  to  this  reception,  and  partly  because  of 
her.  A  Japanese,  no  matter  how  great,  seldom  neglects  the 
privileges  of  humanity.  Yuki's  parents  had  written  that  the 
Prince  was  to  see  her,  and  deliver  news.  What  would  he  say 
now,  —  what  would  her  father  say,  —  if  told  of  this  rude  and 
un-Japanese  yielding  to  a  personal  distaste  ?  "  Yet,"  mut- 
tered Yuki  to  herself,  through  small  clenched  teeth,  "  even 
should  Lord  Hagane  himself  command  me,  I  think  I  would 
not  touch  that  Russian's  hand." 

Moving  forward  slowly,  but  always  in  a  straight  line,  she 
came  full  against  a  small  white  surface  on  a  level  with  her 
face,  a  thing  shield-shaped,  and  framed  in  black.  It  did  not 
move  aside  for  her,  as  similar  white  patches,  vaguely  seen, 
had  done.  Brought  up  suddenly,  she  realized  it  to  be  a  shirt- 
front,  and  presumably  behind  the  shirt-front  there  must  be  a 
living  man. 

"  Oh,  beg  pardon  !  "  she  faltered,  shrinking  back.  "  I  begs 
much  pardons,  sir." 

Two  eager  hands  caught  her  own.  A  gay,  low  voice  said, 
laughing,  "  I  have  watched  your  coming.  I  willed  it.  How 
straight  you  sped,  you  beautiful,  strange  bird !  " 

But  Yuki,  dazed  for  the  moment,  did  not  answer.  She 
panted  slightly,  and  tried  to  draw  her  hands  away. 

"  I  have  waited  here,  by  the  conservatory  door.  You  must 
be  tired  with  standing.  Come  in  with  me,  and  rest." 

Still  unable  to  command  herself,  she  let  the  speaker  lead 
her  into  the  warm  shadows.  She  hoped  he  had  not  seen  her 
rudeness  to  the  Russian  minister.  Mrs.  Todd  swept  round  an 
angry  glance  just  in  time  to  see  them  disappear. 

Pierre  Le  Beau  found  a  sheltered  seat,  and  gently,  yet  in  a 
masterful  way,  forced  her  down  beside  him. 

"  Oh,  Yuki,  but  you  are  beautiful  to-night !  Was  I  not  mad 
enough  with  love  without  this  new  gray  snare  of  mist,  these 
blossoms  drifting  along  an  irresistible  tide  ?  It  is  a  lifetime 
since  I  have  seen  you." 

The  beating  of  the  girl's  heart  slowly  slackened.  "The 
lifetime  of  a  flower,  then,"  she  said,  smiling  upward.  "  It  was 


10  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

but  last  night,  you  know,  when  we  all  work  so  hard  with  the 
decorators  and  the  chrysanthemums." 

"  Last  century !  "  he  laughed.  "  I  really  exist  only  in  the 
moments  when  I  am  with  you.  All  else  are  dungeon  hours, 
locked  with  your  last  '  Good-bye.'  Do  not  shrink  from  me 
now,  darling.  Let  me  hold  you  iu  my  arms  once  this  won- 
derful night." 

"My  hair  you  will  disarrange,  and  others  notice,"  she 
pleaded,  holding  him  back  with  one  white  hand.  "  And,  dear 
Pierre,  you  rumples  my  mind  more  than  my  hair.  I  must  be 
calm  to-night,  and  cheerful  with  many.  I  am  the  debutante." 

"You  are  hard  to  win,"  said  Pierre,  "but  I  believe  I  like 
it  so.  Your  Japanese  etiquette  is  a  thorny  hedge.  More 
than  once  I've  torn  my  soul  upon  it.  Ah,  but  even  that 
could  not  keep  me  quite  away.  You  struggled  hard,  you 
elf  of  pearl  and  mist,  but  at  last  you  said  you  loved  me,  — 
that  you  wished  to  be  my  wife." 

He  brushed  away  the  hand  and  caught  her.  She  gave  a 
little  shuddering  movement  in  his  arms.  "  That  was  a  terri- 
ble, bold  thing  for  a  girl  of  the  samurai  class  to  say.  My 
heart  shake  a  finger  at  me  yet,  that  I  have  confessed  so  im- 
modest a  thought.  I  should  hereafter  be  very  circumspect 
with  you,  to  pay  for  that  bad  thing ! " 

"  Circumspect ! "  laughed  Pierre.  "  Yes,  we  shall  both  be 
circumspect  like  this,  —  and  this ! "  She  wrenched  herself 
from  his  kisses,  and  stood  upright  in  the  narrow  path.  "  No, 
Pierre;  I  mean  it.  Please  do  not  do  such  things,  or  my 
frightened  spirit  never  will  return.  I  must  go  to  Mrs.  Todd ; 
I  fear  she  is  angered." 

"  Angered,  —  with  you  ?  "  asked  Pierre,  arrested  by  the 
sincerity  of  the  girl's  protest.  Yuki  turned  her  head  away. 
Suddenly  he  recalled  the  Russian  minister's  approach,  and 
connected  it  with  Yuki's  flight.  He  stared  at  her  averted 
countenance.  "  Yuki,  did  you  leave  your  friends,  —  would  you 
offend  them,  —  rather  than  greet  the  Russian  ambassador?" 

"Yes,"  whispered  Yuki,  trembling. 

The  radiance  of  Pierre's  face  went  out,  his  head  sank.  "  So 
that  was  the  reason.  You  would  not  touch  a  Russian !  As 
you  know,  my  mother  is  a  Russian." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  11 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  all  Russians  !  Do  not  think  that  I  would 
wound  you.  Many  are  good.  Mr.  Tolstoi,  Mr.  Wittee,  your 
honored  mother,  too,  I  am  sure.  They  hate,  as  we,  the  tyrants 
that  wish  to  crush  the  people,  and  to  bring  on  this  cruel, 
unjust  war.  I  saw  the  petals  of  our  Emperor's  flowers  shrivel 
as  he  passed  them  by !  I,  too,  would  have  shrivelled,  —  my 
soul  would  have  turned  black,  —  at  his  breath." 

"No  war  will  come!"  cried  Pierre,  vehemently.  "I  have 
told  you  this  before.  I  know  it  from  the  inside.  There  will 
be  no  war.  Your  country  will  not  face  Imperial  Russia ! " 

"  If  those  bad  ones  push  us  just  too  far,  —  if  they  delay 
replies,  and  provoke  us  just  a  little  more,  —  Nippon  will  fight, 
and  I  think  that  God  will  let  us  win!" 

"Your  Christian  God  must  side  with  Russia.  He  cannot 
aid  a  nation  that  does  not  believe  in  him ! "  Pierre's  eyes 
held  curiosity  and  a  challenge. 

Yuki  turned  slowly  to  him,  answered  the  look  with  sombre 
brooding,  and  then  stared  upward  to  where  close  moisture  of 
the  high  glass  dome  curved  space  into  a  frosted  shell.  "  Per- 
haps, though,"  she  said,  pausing  between  each  word,  "the 
Christian  God  —  believe  —  in  —  usf" 

Before  his  surprise  found  vent  her  mood  and  tone  had 
changed.  "But,  no,  no,  Pierre;  we  talk  no  more  of  tragic 
things  this  night,  not  of  war,  and  hate,  and  destiny.  It  is  our 
ball,  Monsieur  Pierre  Marie  Le  Beau, —  I  begs  you  to  remem- 
ber that.  And  me  and  Gwendolen  are  now  in  society.  I  am 
in  society,  —  is  it  not  nice  ?  Come,  let  us  return  to  society  at 
once."  She  caught  his  arm,  laughing,  and  tried  to  urge  him 
from  the  bench. 

"  You  witch  of  moods  ! "  said  Pierre.  "  Are  other  Japanese 
girls  like  you  ?  When  I  hold  you  closest,  then  do  you  seem 
most  far  away.  I  seize  you  in  a  thousand  tantalizing  forms, 
only  to  fear,  each  time,  that  never  yet  have  I  seen  the  real 
Yuki.  Ah !  take  me  to  your  land,  my  love,  and  make  me  one 
with  it.  What  do  I  care  for  war,  for  Russia,  even  for  France, 
if  once  I  could  believe  you  entirely  my  own  ?  You  know  I 
am  fighting  hard  to  sail  with  you  next  spring.  The  French 
ambassador  here  gives  me  much  hope,  and  in  France  my 
relatives  are  working." 


12  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

"Yes,  yes,  we  shall  go  together  on  that  great  ship,"  said 
Yuki,  soothingly,  "and  together  we  shall  seek  my  dear 
parents,  and  ask  them  for  our  happiness." 

Pierre's  face  lighted.  "But  you  will  be  true  to  me  no 
matter  whether  they  give  consent  or  not  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Swear 
it,  Yuki." 

"  I  will  be  true  to  you,  Pierre,"  said  Yuki.  "  You  wish  to 
hear  that  many  times,  do  you  not  ?  But  I  cannot  say  I  will 
marry  you  without  their  consent.  But  they  are  kind  —  they 
must  like  you,  Pierre."  She  flushed  delicately.  "We  — 
we  will  make  them  to  say  '  yes,'  Pierre." 

Still  the  young  man  hesitated.  "  This  condition  that  you 
hold  so  stubbornly  is  our  menace,"  he  began.  "  I  don't  urge 
you  to  marry  me  at  once,  without  their  good  wishes,  ouly  to 
promise  that,  after  trying  in  every  way  to  gain  them,  you  will 
take  your  life  into  your  own  hands  and  come  to  me." 

"  Why  do  we  fret  and  worry  about  such  things  so  far  away  ? 
You  will  take  from  me  all  joy  of  our  party.  Will  you  not 
return  to  the  room  with  me  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Pierre,  seizing  a  hand  in  his,  "I  shall  hold  you 
until  this  is  a  bit  more  clear.  No,  Yuki  —  " 

"  Yuki,  —  Yuki ! "  came  a  cautious  voice,  an  echo,  it  seemed, 
to  Pierre's  last  word.  "Where  are  you?  Mother  has  sent 
me  here.  Prince  Hagane  asked  for  you.  She  says  to  coine 
at  once." 

"Let  my  hand  go.  I  must  hurry.  It  is  Prince  Hagane," 
whispered  Yuki,  and,  slipping  deftly  from  Pierre,  she  hurried  to 
join  her  friend.  He  followed  quickly,  stopped  in  the  doorway, 
and  stood  there,  scowling. 

The  crowd  had  thinned.  He  could  see  the  heads  and  shoul- 
ders of  the  two  girls  moving  and  whispering  together  as  they 
sped.  Beyond  them,  surrounded  by  his  suite  of  glittering 
officials,  Spanish-looking  men  in  broadcloth  and  gold  lace, 
rose  the  dark,  impressive  figure  of  Prince  Hagaue.  He  was 
in  the  dull  silken  robes  of  his  own  land,  unornamented  but  for 
a  single  decoration,  —  the  highest  that  a  Japanese  subject,  not 
a  prince  of  the  blood,  had  ever  received. 

Pierre's  first  thought  was  an  inconsequent  one  of  childish 
irritation  that  the  man  bore  no  marks  of  age.  On  the  other 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  13 

hand,  no  one  could  have  thought  him  young.  The  massive 
features,  bronze  in  tone,  and  set  in  a  sort  of  aquiline  rigidity, 
the  conscious,  kingly  poise  of  head  and  throat  rising  from  deep 
brawny  shoulders,  the  stiff  black  hair,  touched  evenly  through- 
out with  gray,  had  none  of  them  the  color  of  youth.  Yet 
beside  him  youth  looked  tame,  and  old  age  withered.  This 
man  was  on  the  very  summit  of  life,  the  central  point  of 
storms,  rather  than  their  object.  His  deep-set  eyes  gazed 
now  far  beyond  to  the  future,  then  back  into  the  past,  with 
equal  certainty  of  vision. 

Such  was  the  great  man  Hagane —  "Ko-shaku  Hagane," 
feudal,  not  imperial,  prince ;  a  title  signifying  the  highest 
rank  attainable  by  a  subject  not  descended  from  the  gods. 
Native  ballads  called  him  the  "  Eight  Arm  and  the  Left  Ear  " 
of  the  Emperor.  Woodcuts  of  his  splendid,  ugly  head,  set  by 
country  farmers  within  household  shrines,  proclaimed  him  the 
Living  War-God  of  Nippon.  His  victories  and  innovations  at 
the  time  of  the  Chinese  struggle  had  spread  his  fame  through 
two  worlds. 

As  Yuki  and  Gwendolen  drew  near,  Mrs.  Todd  first  per- 
ceived them.  "Here  they  are.  Present  me  first,  Cyrus, — 
then  Gwendolen,  then  Yuki,"  the  matron  gave  whispered 
command.  Hagane  responded  to  the  first  two  greetings  with 
unsmiling  courtesy,  offering  a  perfunctory  extension  of  his 
thick  hand. 

"Now,  your  Highness,"  said  Todd,  his  thin,  jovial  voice 
carrying  easily  to  where  Pierre  stood,  "  here  's  somebody  that 
will  look  more  natural.  Step  up,  Yuki-ko.  You  are  n't 
afraid ! " 

Hagane  had  already  fixed  keen  eyes  upon  the  girl.  His 
hands  fell  to  his  sides.  A  faint  smile,  merely  a  gleam  on 
metal,  hurried  across  his  face.  Pierre  saw  his  lips  move. 
Yuki  went  closer,  hesitated,  gained  courage,  and  looked  up 
into  the  broad  face.  Pierre  saw  Mrs.  Todd  and  Gwendolen 
exchange  smiling  glances.  Todd  threw  back  his  head  to 
laugh.  The  smile  returned  to  Hagane,  unexpected,  intensified, 
brilliant,  as  if  a  new  day  had  broken.  Pierre  winced.  He 
saw  Yuki  sway  again,  —  put  forth  two"  white  hands,  falter, 
then  sink  suddenly  prone,  her  palms  outspread,  her  white 


14  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

forehead  on  the  floor,  her  whole  slim,  crouching  body  topped 
by  the  great  black  burden  of  the  sash,  instinct  with  reverence 
not  far  from  adoration. 

Hagaue  lifted  her  immediately,  his  smile  deepening.  Mrs. 
Todd  turned  away,  embarrassed.  The  small  ripple  of  excite- 
ment in  the  onlookers  died ;  but  Pierre,  with  angry  eyes, 
sought  Yuki,  and  drew  her  slightly  to  one  side. 

"When  you  are  my  wife  there  will  be  no  such  ridiculous 
kow-towing,"  he  said. 

"Who  is  your  friend,  Yuki?"  asked  the  great  man,  stepping 
condescendingly  near. 

She  performed  the  introduction  well,  speaking  in  English 
without  a  tremor  of  the  low  voice. 

"  Ah,"  said  Hagane,  speaking  also  in  English,  "  I  am  re- 
cently from  the  country  of  Monsieur,  which,  I  do  not  mistake 
in  conjecturing,  is  France  ?  Perhaps  you  are  a  visitor  here, 
like  myself."  He  put  out  the  great  hand,  and  after  an  imper- 
ceptible hesitation  Pierre  thrust  his  own  within  it.  The  grasp 
turned  him  pale. 

"  Your  Highness  is  correct  in  both  surmises,"  he  answered 
stiffly ;  "  I  -am  of  France,  and  I  am  a  visitor.  At  an  early 
date  I  anticipate  the  pleasure  of  being  in  your  Highness's 
country." 

"  Indeed  ?  Pray  remind  me  of  this  meeting  when  you  ar- 
rive, Monsieur.  Shall  you  sail  soon  ?  " 

"  Not  for  many  months,  I  fear,"  said  the  Frenchman. 
"  But  I  shall  certainly  avail  myself  of  your  kind  suggestion." 

Yuki's  eyes  were  urging  him  to  go.  The  girl  herself 
could  not  have  told  why  she  felt  apprehension  in  the  prox- 
imity of  these  two  men.  Hagane  had  never  been  antagon- 
istic to  foreigners,  and  she  knew  that,  in  Japan,  she  and 
Pierre  could  not  have  another  friend  so  powerful.  Yet  she 
was  uneasy. 

Pierre,  with  a  last  bow,  went.  The  little  episode  stirred 
him.  The  thought  rushed  through  him,  too,  that  here  was 
possibly  an  invincible  friend.  He  would  make  the  most  of  it. 
Even  Yuki's  abject  obeisance,  which  before  had  stung  him, 
shone  now  in  the  light  of  desirable  dependence  on  the  great 
man's  word.  Let  him,  Pierre,  secure  his  appointment,  and, 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  15 

with  Hagane  his  friend,  the  old  gods  might  shake  their  heads 
and  growl  in  vain. 

He  went  into  the  street.  The  long  rooms  had  suddenly 
grown  too  small  for  his  aspirations.  One  friendly  cigarette 
was  smoked,  and  then  another.  Life  seemed  a  jolly  thing, 
that  hour,  to  Pierre. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

HAGAN!;'S  entrance  had  broken  the  receiving  line.  He  be- 
came at  once  the  personage,  the  dominating  influence.  Guests 
moved  about  now,  or  gathered  into  little  social  groups  at  will. 
The  long  apartment  filled  evenly,  a  third  to  the  ceiling,  with 
a  shifting  surface  of  triangles  which  were  shoulders, —  white 
shoulders,  black  shoulders,  pink  shoulders,  sometimes  a  mili- 
tary pair  of  gold-lace  shoulders,  each  pair  surmounted  by  a 
head.  The  rooms,  emptying  ever,  were  ever  filling,  as  in  some 
well-constructed  drinking-fountain,  —  the  very  walls  soaked 
in  the  hum  and  timbre  of  human  voices. 

Gwendolen,  freed  from  the  thralls  of  official  hostess-ship, 
gathered  to  herself  young  men  in  passage,  as  a  spray  of 
scented  golden-rod  gathers  bees.  She  had  a  smile  for  all,  a 
witty  retort,  or  an  insinuating  whisper,  followed  by  a  pro- 
vocative look.  Old  maids,  and  mothers  with  unattractive 
daughters,  were  wont  to  call  Gwendolen  a  heartless  coquette. 
As  for  the  coquetry,  it  was  indefensible ;  as  to  the  heart, 
young  men  held  varying  opinions  with  regard  to  that  coveted 
article. 

The  social  atmosphere,  charged  with  evanescent  gayety, 
intoxicated  her.  She  felt  like  a  flower  held  under  the  surface 
of  champagne.  Through  all  the  glamour  spread  a  tincture  of 
chrysanthemums.  Ever  after  —  sometimes  in  lands  very  far 
away  from  Washington  —  the  odor  of  these  blossoms  had 
power  to  bring  before  her,  as  in  an  illuminated  vision,  the 
yellow  walls,  the  moving  heads,  and,  clearest  of  all,  the  slen- 
der, mist-gray  figure  of  Yuki  Onda;  the  delicate,  happy  face 
under  the  great  loops  of  blue-black  hair 

As  Gwendolen  talked  and  strolled,  promising  a  dance  to  one, 
refusing  it  to  another,  with  unreasoning  caprice  and  the  man- 
ner of  a  young  empress,  her  hazel  eyes,  under  their  long  lashes, 
shot  more  than  once  an  undetected  glance  to  a  certain  corner 
where,  beside  a  pedestal  of  drooping  fern,  stood  a  lonely  guest. 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  17 

This  person  was  young,  good  to  look  at  in  a  buoyant,  breezy 
sort  of  way,  and  of  the  sex  which  (alas,  yet  beyond  contest- 
ing!) most  keenly  interested  the  fair  observer.  After  such 
glances  she  usually  fell  to  fondling  her  sheaf  of  orchids,  and 
once  pressed  it  up  against  her  face.  At  this  the  brown  eyes 
in  the  corner  gleamed,  and  took  on  the  alertness  of  a  terrier 
whose  master  snaps  a  playful  finger. 

Mrs.  Todd  became  solicitous  that  her  guest  of  honor  should 
be  fed,  but  hesitated  to  ask  him  for  fear  that  her  "foreign 
food"  might  prove  unpalatable.  This  apprehension  was 
finally  confided  on  tiptoe  to  her  lord.  "  Heavens !  Susan," 
said  the  unfeeling  mate,  with  the  twinkle  which  she  dreaded, 
"  do  you  suppose  a  Japanese  commissary  department  has  been 
trotting  beside  him  through  Asia,  Europe,  Boston,  and  New 
York  ?  Set  him  before  a  mess  of  caviare,  lobster  a  la  New- 
burg,  and  extra  dry,  and  see  what  he  does  to  it.  Where  did 
Gwendolen  go  ?  " 

"  She  's  over  there  by  the  punch-bowl,  I  believe,"  responded 
Mrs.  Todd,  in  absent-minded  fashion.  The  good  lady  still 
hung,  ponderously  vague,  between  her  husband's  opinion  of 
Hagane's  gastronomic  culture  and  her  own  half-solaced  fears. 

Todd  craned  his  neck  over  the  crowd.  "  Oh,  there  she  is, 
just  by  the  punch-table.  The  young  men  are  thicker  than 
fleas  on  a  candy  kitten.  Wonder  whether  it 's  Gwennie  or 
the  punch." 

"A  little  of  both,  I  presume,"  said  Mrs.  Todd,  austerely. 
She  often  found  her  spouse  unsympathetic. 

"  I  don't  blame  'em  then,  —  dinged  if  I  do,"  cried  he,  with 
a  joyful,  premonitory  lurch.  A  firm  hand  clutched  him. 

"  I  'm  going  for  the  prince  now.  He  is  talking  to  Yuki. 
Shall  I  send  her  away  ?  She  looks  as  she  did  on  confirmation 
day,  the  little  idiot.  The  way  these  Japanese  worship  their 
country  and  each  other  is  simply  ridiculous.  What  do  you 
think  about  keeping  her  with  me  and  the  prince,  Cy  ?  " 

Todd  glanced  at  Yuki.  His  face  softened.  She  had  indeed 
an  upraised,  glorified  look,  as  if  a  beatified  vision  instead  of  a 
very  solid  living  man  leaned  down  to  her  words. 

"  Keep  her,  by  all  means.  She  '11  know  how  to  wait  on  her 
bronze  idol,"  said  he,  lightly,  and  dived  into  the  crowd. 

2 


18  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Apart  from  Yuki,  Mrs.  Todd  found  unexpected  solution  in 
her  task  of  feeding  the  lion.  His  private  secretary,  Mr.  Hirai, 
was  not  merely  an  Oxford  graduate,  but  an  accomplished  man 
of  the  world.  He  made  everything  easy.  At  the  hostess's 
first  hint  of  invitation  the  Japanese  started  in  a  solid  body 
toward  the  supper-rooms.  Several  ladies  who  had  met  mem- 
bers of  the  party  in  Boston  or  New  York  adhered,  smiling, 
to  the  moving  group.  Yuki  fell  back  with  the  secretary,  and 
began  chattering  to  him  in  Japanese,  her  dark  eyes  slowly 
turning  to  stars,  her  pale  cheeks  kindling  into  rosy  fire.  All 
of  the  company  centred  about  Hagane,  as  thoughts  centre 
about  a  master  will.  The  occasion  which  Mrs.  Todd  dreaded 
proved  to  her  one  of  the  pleasantest  incidents  of  the  whole 
successful  affair.  Hagane,  in  his  enjoyment  of  the  delicate 
fare,  entirely  justified  his  host's  prophecy.  The  true  hostess 
is  never  quite  so  happy  as  when  she  sees  her  guests  enjoying 
the  good  things  which  she,  through  anxious  hours,  has  been 
solicitous  in  providing. 

Meantime  Mr.  Todd  had  reached  his  daughter.  The  young 
men  drew  back  a  little  in  deference  to  the  age  and  relationship 
of  the  intruder,  but  did  not  get  beyond  range  of  allurement. 

"  It 's  come,  little  girl,"  he  whispered,  with  eyes  as  young 
and  bright  as  hers.  "  It  came  by  wire  just  a  few  minutes  ago. 
It 's  here ! "  He  tapped  significantly  at  the  left  side  of  his 
coat. 

"  The  appointment  ?     Oh !  does  mother  know  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  admitted  the  senator,  with  the  look  of  an  urchin 
caught  stealing  jam.  "  Perhaps  we  'd  better  —  " 

"  You  bet  we  'd  better ! "  She  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed  the  merriest  laugh  in  all  the  world.  Then  she  ran  her 
sparkling  eyes  about  the  circle  of  withdrawn,  boyish  faces. 
"  You  must  excuse  me ;  dad  has  a  secret,  and  that  means 
insanity  for  me  if  I  can't  hear  it  at  once.  You  would  n't 
have  me  go  mad  —  now,  would  you  ?  —  before  the  first  waltz 
plays ! " 

"  Certainly  not ! "  laughed  the  chorus. 

"But,  Miss  Gwendolen,"  ventured  a  bold  swain,  "how 
about  that  first  waltz  ?  For  whom  are  you  keeping  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  girl,  pausing,  and  letting  shy  archness 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  19 

possess  her  downcast  lids,  "  I  did  not  want  to  tell  you,  but 
since  you  force  me  to  it,  —  I  ain  keeping  the  first  waltz  for  — 
mother !  " 

With  another  laugh,  full  of  bright  mockery,  she  caught  her 
father's  arm,  and  hurried  him  away.  The  excitement  of  the 
past  hour  was  nothing  to  what  she  now  felt.  Chattering, 
sparkling,  laughing,  tossing,  gesticulating  at  times  with  her 
sheaf  of  flowers,  she  was  a  slim  fountain  of  youth,  with  a  noon- 
day sun  above  it.  "  You  really  have  the  appointment !  "  she 
cried  to  him,  when  they  were  well  out  of  hearing.  "  I  knew  you 
must  get  it,  though  the  President  certainly  took  his  time. 
And  we  shall  sail  next  spring  with  Yuki!  What !  we  go  before 
next  spring  ?  Oh,  how  perfectly  delicious !  And  mother 
does  n't  know  ?  Now,  dad,  I  am  surprised  at  you  !  You  must 
be  sure  to  let  mother  know  first,  or  her  feelings  will  be  hurt. 
Oh,  aren't  we  a  pair  of  rascals,  dad?  Such  nice  rascals!  I 
do  like  ourselves,  —  now  don't  you,  dad  ?  " 

Pierre  Le  Beau  had,  a  few  moments  before,  abandoned  his 
lonely  sentinelship  at  the  conservatory  door ;  but,  in  the  cor- 
ner where  the  fern  stood,  the  sturdier  watcher,  brown  of  face 
and  square  of  shoulder,  held  a  tenacious  post.  A  deflection  of 
visual  lenses  (though  to  outward  appearance  his  eyes  seemed 
clear  enough)  kept  him  from  beholding  more  than  one  person 
in  the  crowded  rooms.  If  she  had  been  aware  of  the  silent 
challenge,  her  knowledge  was  cleverly  concealed.  Yet  now, 
on  her  father's  arm,  she  drifted  steadily,  though  with  seeming 
unconsciousness,  toward  that  special  nook.  The  watcher  put 
a  hand  on  a  Roman  chair  beside  him,  suggestively  unoccupied. 

Abreast  of  the  little  group,  —  the  gold  chair,  great  fern,  and 
dim  inhabitant  —  Gwendolen  stopped.  A  smile  went  forth  that 
lit  the  shadows,  as  she  said  quite  clearly,  "  Thank  you,  I  be- 
lieve I  will.  I  should  like  to  get  a  bit  of  a  rest  before  dancing." 

Senator  Cyrus  C.  Todd  did  not  lack  intuition.  "  Ah,  there  's 
Skimmer.  Very  chap  I  wanted  to  see  !  "  he  mumbled  to  him- 
self, and  hurried  off  in  an  opposite  direction. 

He  of  the  brown  eyes  leaned  confidently  down.  "  You  chose 
my  flowers  !  "  he  vaunted. 

Exultation  was  not  the  most  desirable  note  to  adopt  with 
Gwendolen.  She  answered  nothing  for  a  moment.  She  was 


20  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

busy  adjusting  herself  to  an  "  unconscious  "  pose,  as  perfect  as 
the  bold  lines  of  the  chair  and  her  own  graceful  figure  could 
combine  to  produce.  She  looked  down  upon  the  orchids  with 
a  thoughtful,  pensive  gaze,  then  slowly  upward  to  the  speaker. 
"  Ah,  was  it  then  —  you  —  who  sent  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  did  n't  you  know  ?  Was  it  too  cheeky,  having  met 
you  but  a  glorious  once  ?  " 

No  reply.  Gwendolen  lifted  the  flowers  and  brushed  her 
soft  lips  across  them.  Her  companion  drew  himself  erect 
among  the  drooping  green  shadows  of  the  fern,  swallowed 
hard,  and  asked,  in  a  chastened  voice,  "  Did  that  bloomin' 
blot  of  a  florist  forget  to  put  my  card  in,  after  all  I  said  ?  " 

Gwendolen's  upraised  eyes  were  now  those  of  a  commiser- 
ating dove.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I  did  not  see  any  card  among 
the  flowers." 

The  fern  had  a  short  ague  and  stood  still.  "I'll  take  a  sur- 
geon along  when  I  go  to  see  that  florist." 

"  I  would  n't,"  said  the  girl,  pityingly.  "  It  was  the  love- 
liest sheaf  I  ever  saw.  He  deserves  something  better  than 
broken  bones  for  arranging  it." 

"Yes,  they  were  jolly.  They  must  have  pleased  you,"  said 
the  young  man,  with  a  wintry  gleam  of  resignation.  "I  was 
bent  on  finding  something  that  really  looked  like  you.  I  went 
all  over  Washington,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia  in  person. 
But  I  was  so  careful  of  the  card !  I  told  the  foo —  the  man, 
over  and  over  again,  to  be  sure  and  enclose  it.  It  was  printed 
out  in  full,  — '  T.  Caraway  Dodge,  First  Secretary  of  American 
Legation,  Tokio,  Japan.'" 

"You  think  you  have  found  something  that  looks  just  like 
me  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  slowly,  ignoring  the  latter  half  of  his 
speech.  Her  face  was  full  of  deprecating  interest.  She  dain- 
tily drew  forth  a  single  strange  blossom,  and  held  it,  poised 
for  contrast,  against  the  dark  leaves  of  the  fern.  Thus 
detached,  it  bore  an  unfortunate  resemblance  to  a  ghostly 
spider. 

"  Oh,  not  stuck  off  on  a  cork,  like  that !  "  cried  the  tortured 
donor.  "All  in  a  lump,  don't  you  know,  —  beaten  up  like 
the  whites  of  eggs,  with  gold-dust  sprinkled  over,  and  parsley 
around  the  edges ! " 


21 

"  All  in  a  lump  —  beaten  up  like  eggs  —  parsley  around  the 
edges,"  began  Gwendolen,  gravely,  when  suddenly  she  tripped 
and  fell  against  her  own  laughter.  Her  pretty  shoulders 
quaked.  She  bent  far  over  for  control,  and  tried  to  hide  the 
treacherous  mirth. 

But  Dodge  had  seen  enough  for  him.  "By  Jiminy! 
you  've  been  jollying  me  all  the  time !  And  I  swallowed  it 
like  a  bloomin'  oyster!  "  He  came  around  to  the  front,  drew 
up  a  stool,  flung  himself  upon  it,  and  looked  up  with  grins 
that  bespoke  a  renewed  zest  for  life.  "  Now  honest,  Miss 
Todd,  you  owe  me  something  for  this.  Did  n't  you  know 
who  sent  them  ?  Did  n't  you  really  find  that  card  in  the 
box  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  n't  —  honest  —  but  —  m-mother  did ! "  confessed 
Gwendolen,  now  half-stifled  with  laughter. 

"  And  you  didn't  resent  it  ?  And  you  thought  them  pretty 
from  the  very  first  moment  ?  "  cried  the  youth,  on  a  high  note 
of  satisfaction.  He  reached  up  now  boldly,  took  the  single 
flower  from  her  hand,  pinched  off  the  end  of  a  long  fern-leaf 
to  back  it,  and  deliberately  arranged  himself  a  button-hole. 

Gwendolen  wiped  the  tears  of  merriment  from  her  bright 
eyes.  "  Pretty  ?  "  she  echoed.  "  It  is  too  tame  a  word.  I 
thought  them  a  dream,  — an  inspiration,  — a  visual  ecstasy  !  " 

"Yes,  I  said  they  were  like  you,"  returned  the  impudent 
Dodge,  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  distorted  countenance  bent 
above  the  process  of  pinning  in  his  flower.  "  There,"  he  said, 
anent  this  finished  operation,  "it's  in.  I  think  it  becomes 
me.  I  did  n't  run  my  finger  to  the  bone  but  once.  Now  tell 
me  what  ma,-ma  thought  of  the  flowers  and  the  card  ?  " 

In  spite  of  her  usual  self-possession,  the  girl  was  stricken 
dumb.  To  add  to  her  confusion,  a  deep  embarrassing  blush 
rose  relentlessly  to  her  throat  and  face,  and  would  not  be 
banished. 

"  You  won't  repeat  it !  "  cried  the  terrible  youth.  "  You 
don't  dare  to,  —  but  I  will.  Mama  said,  —  lifting  her  lor- 
gnettes (here  he  deliberately  mimicked  the  air  of  a  middle- 
aged  grande  dame),  —  '  T.  Caraway  Dodge  !  Who  is  T. 
Caraway  Dodge  ?  Oh,  I  see,  —  a  snip  of  an  attache  ! ' " 

A  look  into  the  stupefied  face  above  him  showed  that  his 


22  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

bold  guess  had  been  true.  Intoxicated  by  success,  he  ven- 
tured another  toss. 

"If  you  say  the  word,  I'll  come  pretty  near  repeating  your 
answer." 

Behind  the  astonishment,  then  the  consternation  of  the 
girl's  face,  a  harder  something  flashed.  She  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  have  the  lead  so  rudely  taken.  This  young  person 
must  be  disposed  of  on  the  instant.  His  impudence  would 
have  given  points  to  Jonah's  gourd.  She  now  rose  to  her  feet, 
held  her  chin  unnecessarily  high,  and,  with  the  air  of  a  young 
Lady  Macbeth,  drawled  out,  —  "I  will  spare  you  the  trouble, 
Mr.  T.  Caraway  Dodge.  Much  as  I  dislike  to  be  rude,  the 
words  I  said  were  these — "  She  paused.  Dodge  rose  too. 
The  brown  eyes  and  the  hazel  were  nearly  on  a  level.  He  was 
laughing.  "  Well  ?  "  he  reminded  at  length. 

His  unconsciousness  of  offence  gave  the  last  flare  to  her 
indignation. 

"  I  said  to  those  present,  '  The  sending  of  so  costly  a  bou- 
quet by  Mr.  Dodge  is  a  little  —  er  —  pushing,  and  the  sender 
must  be  told  so;  but  since,  by  accident, — the  flowers  just 
happen  to  suit  my  gown  — ' ' 

"  Nonsense  !  "  laughed  the  rash  Dodge,  "  you  never  talked 
that  way  in  your  life,  unless  you  deliberately  made  it  up. 
That 's  your  stunt  now,  of  course.  Any  one  could  see  it. 
What  is  more  likely,  you  said  —  what  I  planned  for  you  to 
say  was,  — '  Oh,  here  are  the  flowers  I  have  been  waiting  for ! 
I  think  I  '11  have  to  marry  the  person  who  sent  me  these ! '  — 
There  's  the  music  of  the  first  waltz  !  It 's  a  peach  !  Come,  — 
you  have  n't  promised  it,  have  you  ?  Everybody  is  waiting 
for  the  hostess  to  begin.  Let  us  start  the  ball  rolling!" 

In  sheer  incapacity  to  resist,  a  weakness  wrought  of  a  be- 
numbing conflict  of  anger,  mirth,  and  amazement,  Gwendolen 
leaned  to  him,  —  and  her  debutante  ball  opened  with  her,  joy- 
ous, whirling  in  the  arms  of  Mr.  T.  Caraway  Dodge. 

After  this  initial  favor,  he  was  rigidly,  even  scornfully, 
ignored;  but  little  cared  Dodge  for  that.  He  had  had  his 
day.  The  impetus  given  could  carry  him  smiling  on  through 
hours  of  cold  neglect.  He  was  determined  to  be  the  gayest 
of  that  circling  round  of  joy,  and  succeeded.  Stout  matrons, 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS  23 

lean  old  maids,  Chinese,  Spanish,  Russian,  Dutch,  Peruvian, 
Pole,  —  just  so  it  wore  skirts  and  could  move  its  feet,  all  were 
food  for  his  new  mill  of  ecstasy. 

Gwendolen  danced  oftenest  with  Pierre.  He  was  literally 
a  perfect  dancer,  and  to-night  he  said  that  the  champagne 
all  went  to  his  heels.  Yuki,  in  her  decorous  Japanese  drap- 
eries, wound  about  by  stiff  brocades,  did  not  attempt  foreign 
dancing. 

Hagane  and  the  older  members  of  the  suite  left  early. 
Hirai,  the  secretary,  remained,  evidently  charmed  by  the  long 
eyes  of  his  young  countrywoman.  During  the  time  she  was 
not  talking  to  him  or  Pierre,  Yuki  remained  near  Mrs.  Todd, 
delighting  the  soberer  friends  who  came  to  speak  with  them 
by  her  beauty  and  intelligence.  In  the  pleasure  of  seeing  this 
enjoyment  of  her  Oriental  protege,  Mrs.  Todd  forgot  to  scold 
about  the  affair  of  the  Kussian  minister,  and  made  only 
one  remark  about  Yuki's  undignified  and  un-American  "  kow- 
tow "  to  the  prince. 

"I  was  just  pushed  down,  Mrs.  Todd,"  protested  Yuki, 
earnestly.  "  Some  hand  from  my  own  land  pressed  me  before 
I  knew.  So  was  I  taught  to  greet  our  feudal  daimyo  when  I 
was  the  very  little  girl;  so  all  in  Nippon,  of  old  customs, 
greet  him  now.  I  will  try  never  again  to  do  such  a  thing  in 
America." 

"Well,  well,  that's  all  right!"  said  the  matron,  patting 
her  slim  shoulder.  "  You  are  a  good  little  girl,  if  you  did 
kow-tow.  There 's  Gwendolen  with  Pierre  again  !  Does  n't 
she  look  well  to-night?" 

"  Well ! "  echoed  Yuki,  as  her  eyes  followed  the  flying 
shapes.  "'Well'  is  so  faint  a  little  word.  To  me  Gwendolen 
looks  beautiful,  —  beautiful  —  like  the  Sun  Goddess  in  our 
land.  She  is  like  a  bush  of  yama-buki  in  the  wind!  I  never 
saw  nobody  at  all  so  beautiful  as  our  Gwendolen !  " 

"  And  to  think  she  must  give  up  this  brilliant  social  success, 
and  go  to  a  heathen  country  for  four  years ! "  mused  Mrs. 
Todd,  gloomily.  She  had,  of  course,  been  told  the  great 
news. 

If  Yuki  heard  the  muttered  words,  she  did  not  show  resent- 
ment. The  smile  of  intense  affection  had  not  left  her  face  as 


24  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

she  said  aloud :  "  Anywhere  that  Gwendolen  goes,  I  think  she 
will  find  happiness.  She  has  in  her  eyes  the  light  of  a  happy 
karma.  Evil  and  sorrow  cannot  stay  with  her  long." 

"Well,  and  what  of  you,  my  little  Japanese  daughter?" 
asked  Mrs.  Todd,  touched  by  the  unselfish  words. 

"  Oh,  me  !  "  said  Yuki,  becoming  instantly  grave.  "  I  do 
not  think  about  my  karma,  —  each  person  cannot  see  his  own, 
or  know  of  it ;  it  clings  about  him  too  close.  But  if  1  should 
think —  No,  I  cannot  !  I  am  afraid!  Ah,  here  comes  back 
the  sunshine.  It  is  Gwendolen,  fanning  !  Ah,  so  hot  a  little 
sunshine  is  Gwendolen !  Sit  here,  and  let  me  make  the  fan 
go  fast  for  you,  Gwendolen, — your  wrists  —  your  throat  — 
that  will  make  coolness  quicker  than  just  your  face ! " 

Both  girls  laughed  now,  and  talked  together;  Pierre  joined 
them;  Dodge  ventured  near;  the  senator  came  up.  It  was 
a  sparkling  group,  with  the  centre  always  Gwendolen;  yet 
even  to  Mrs.  Todd's  unimaginative  eyes,  the  loneliness  of  the 
little  gray  figure,  the  strange  blue-black  hair,  and  pointed, 
faintly  tinted  face,  struck  a  note  of  mystery,  —  of  something 
very  near  to  sadness. 


CHAPTER  THEEE 

MR.  CYRUS  CARTON  TODD,  born  in  the  farming  district  of 
Pennsylvania,  of  English  and  Scotch  ancestry,  had,  as  a  mere 
boy,  gone  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  West.  This  was  not,  of 
course,  an  original  thing  to  do.  Young  men  and  old,  families 
and  whole  communities  were,  at  this  time,  streaming,  like  ban- 
ners, out  toward  the  alluring,  unknown  lands.  Cyrus  chose 
a  broad,  lonely  stretch  of  moor  in  the  very  heart  of  a  state 
sparsely  settled,  but  not  too  far  from  the  fertile  Mississippi 
basin.  Agriculture,  rather  than  stock-raising,  had  from  the 
first  been  his  design.  The  small,  hoarded  patrimony  went 
into  fences,  a  horse,  a  plough,  and  a  great  lethargic  sack  of 
seed.  Quick  to  recognize  the  advantages  of  new  methods  and 
new  machinery,  he  became,  before  the  age  of  thirty,  one  of  the 
successful  "large  farmers"  of  his  adopted  state. 

He  loved,  with  a  passionate,  personal  love,  his  broad  black 
fields.  He  knew,  before  they  ventured  one  slim,  verdant  herald 
to  the  air,  the  stirring  of  immortal  essence  in  his  buried  grain. 
He  thrilled,  sometimes  with  the  stinging  of  quick  tears,  when 
first  the  green  prophecy  ran,  like  an  answering  cry,  from  fur- 
row to  swart  furrow.  He  moved,  at  harvest-time,  among  the 
hung,  encrusted  stalks  with  the  deep  joy  of  a  creator  who  sees 
his  work  well  done.  Every  process  was  vital,  —  the  sowing, 
reaping,  storing,  and,  last  of  all,  the  hissing  of  the  great  gold 
torrents  as  they  plunged  headlong  into  caverns  of  waiting  cars. 
His  acreage  was  wide,  but  not  too  wide  for  his  heart.  His 
great  working  force  of  men  was  organized  and  controlled  with 
the  tact  and  ease  of  a  leader.  Mrs.  Todd,  the  daughter  of  an 
Illinois  farmer,  (of  late  she  was  successfully  forgetting  the 
fact),  came  into  his  life  when,  as  a  girl  of  eighteen,  she  had 
"visited"  a  neighbor's  home.  Todd  was  then  thirty-one. 
The  difference  in  age  seemed  great  to  him,  but  apparently  not 
to  Susan.  She  arrived  in  mid-autumn,  at  the  height  of  a  golden 


26  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

yield.  Cyrus  loved  the  whole  world  then,  and  it  was  not  dif- 
ficult for  the  rosy  girl  to  secure  for  herself  a  special  niche. 

They  were  married  in  the  following  spring,  when  the  plant- 
ing was  over,  and  Cyrus's  fields  ran  with  an  emerald  fire.  The 
farmer  turned,  perforce,  to  contemplation  of  his  house.  Bare 
walls  and  rough  pine  floors  were  well  enough  for  him,  but 
better  should  be  found  for  Susan.  She  assisted  him  in  select- 
ing the  new  furnishings,  and  then,  with  the  self-possession 
known  only  to  a  woman  and  a  hen,  entered  upon  her  kingdom. 

Her  presence,  for  a  long  while  after,  affected  Todd  as  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  miracle.  Women  had  borne  little  part 
in  his  life.  The  dainty  touches  of  ornament  which  his  wife's 
quick  fingers  gave  the  little  home,  the  good,  unheard-of  things 
she  cooked  for  him,  the  demonstrative  affection  she  was  ever 
ready  to  bestow  (for  indeed  she  loved  him  dearly),  kept  him 
in  a  sort  of  daze  of  unbelieving  bliss.  He  felt  that  he  and  life 
were  even.  Now  he  began  to  learn  what  money,  hitherto  a 
neglected  factor  in  his  success,  had  the  power  to  grant. 

The  plain  cottage  grew  into  an  attractive,  vine-held  home. 
Going  to  his  fields  each  morning,  after  a  perfect  breakfast, 
he  argued  aloud  to  himself,  and  frequently  pinched  his  own 
arm  to  prove  the  brightness  true.  Everything  prospered. 
The  men  liked  him,  the  dogs  fawned  upon  him,  the  horses 
whinnied  at  his  voice.  And  then,  just  as  he  told  himself 
he  could  n't  possibly  make  room  for  another  joy,  —  came 
Gwendolen. 

Cyrus,  when  his  eyes  had  cleared  of  the  golden  blur,  drew 
a  chair  to  the  bed,  put  his  two  elbows  on  the  rim,  set  his  face 
upon  his  hands,  and  deliberately  made  acquaintance  with  his 
daughter.  The  miracle  of  his  wife's  love,  the  immortality  of 
springing  seed,  the  awe  left  over  from  his  boyish  dreams 
of  heaven,  all  hid  themselves  in  that  small,  pink  frame,  and 
looked  out  upon  him  through  its  feeble  gaze. 

He  wished  to  name  her  "Susan,"  after  his  wife,  and,  as  it 
happened,  after  his  mother  also.  Mrs.  Todd  would  not  con- 
sider it.  She  desired  her  child  to  have  a  "  pretty  "  name, 
something  high-sounding,  even  sentimental,  that  would  look 
well  in  a  novel.  Her  thought  whirred  like  a  distracted 
magnet  between  three  euphonious  points,  —  "  Gwendolen," 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  27 

"Guinevere,"  and  "Theodora."  At  Guinevere  Cyrus  at 
once  took  an  obstinate  stand.  It  suggested  to  him  guinea- 
hens. 

«  Then  '  Theodora,'  Cy.  What  is  the  matter  with  « Theo- 
dora '  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  like  the  tin  tail  to  a  fancy  windmill.  I  can 
just  see  it  spin!"  declared  the  anxious  father. 

"  But  the  sentiment !  It  means  '  gift  of  God,' "  pleaded 
Mrs.  Todd,  in  the  voice  she  usually  kept  for  church. 

"Shucks!  She  don't  need  a  label,  'made  in  heaven,'" 
said  Cy.  "  Nobody  'd  take  her  as  coming  up  from  the  other 
place.  Why,  if  she  dropped  there  now,  she  'd  put  out  flames 
like  a  hand  extinguisher,  —  the  blessed  cheraphim ! " 

"  Well,  'Gwendolen,'  then.  Surely  you  can't  find  any  such 
ridiculous  objections  to  '  Gwendolen.'  "  The  young  wife  now 
was  plainly  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

"It's  fancy  and  high-falutin'  for  my  taste,"  said  honest 
Cyrus,  "  but  it's  not  so  bad  as  those  others.  If  you  want  it, 
have  it !  I  can't  stand  out  against  you,  darling.  I  can  call 
her  *  daughter '  when  I  'm  tired." 

So  Gwendolen  she  was  christened,  and  in  time  Cyrus  be- 
came not  only  reconciled,  but  actually  proud  of  the  pretty 
name,  saying  that  it  sounded  yellow,  like  her  hair. 

In  earlier  years  of  struggle,  —  pleasant  stress  it  had  always 
been  —  Cyrus  Todd,  in  the  wide,  lonely  life  of  the  prairie,  had 
become  a  reader  of  books.  His  pious  English  mother  had  not 
died  before  transmitting  to  her  boy  her  veneration  for  the 
great  souls  of  the  past.  Among  his  very  few  possessions, 
brought  originally  from  Pennsylvania,  were  three  books;  — 
Shakespeare,  the  Bible,  and,  strangely  enough,  a  copy  of  Marco 
Polo.  During  the  days  of  poverty  these  three  formed  his 
sole,  incessant  reading.  Afterward  he  bought  more  books, 
generally  bound  garbage-heaps  of  literature,  perpetrated  in 
rich  boards,  and  disseminated  by  strenuous  agents  who  urged 
to  purchase  with  a  glibness  unknown  to  any  since  Beelzebub. 
A  few  good  books  came  to  him,  generally  by  a  fortuitous  mis- 
chance. Imitating  his  neighbors,  he  sent  in  subscriptions  to 
the  "Western  Farmer's  Evangel"  and  "The  Horn  of  Plenty." 
He  read  everything,  bad  or  good,  keeping  new  words  and 


28  THE   BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

phrases  strictly  out  of  his  daily  vocabulary.  His  time  had 
not  yet  come  for  mental  segregation. 

Chiefly  because  of  this  modest  simplicity  of  his  speech,  no 
one  suspected  him  of  the  growing  passion.  Never  was  a 
figure  less  scholarly  to  view.  His  keen  eyes  of  bluish  green, 
with  their  trick  of  closing  slightly  from  underneath  when 
interested,  seemed  to  look  out  toward  horizons  of  actual  ex- 
perience, rather  than  along  those  shadowy  vistas  down  which 
the  pilgrim  band  of  thinkers  moves.  His  limbs,  loosely  hung, 
were  made  for  striding  over  furrows.  His  mouth,  thin-lipped 
and  straight,  sensitive  at  the  corners  to  any  hint  of  humor  or 
of  pathos,  showed  early  lines  of  shrewdness  and  self-restraint. 
Never  a  great  talker,  he  was,  as  a  listener,  an  inspiration. 
His  silences  in  conversation  were  not  of  the  brooding,  intro- 
spective kind  in  which  one  seems  to  be  planning  his  own 
next  remark,  but  of  deep  and  intelligent  interest  in  what  his 
companion  was  saying.  He  was  alert,  practical,  interested  in 
many  things,  sympathetic  with  many  views. 

Within  the  badly  printed  pages  of  the  "  Farmer's  Evangel " 
he  found  his  first  clue  to  the  outer  world.  This  was  an  illus- 
trated article  on  rice  culture,  —  in  Japan.  Before  he  had 
turned  the  first  column  he  felt  the  threads  of  destiny  pull. 

"Them  little  chaps  is  all  right,  I  guess,"  he  remarked 
aloud,  at  the  top  of  the  second  column. 

"  No  red  rust  on  Johnny  Jap ! "  he  murmured  admiringly,  at 
the  third. 

With  the  fourth  and  last  strip  of  reading,  mated  to  a 
pictured  group  of  Chinese  coolies  flailing  rye,  he  let  the  paper 
fall  and  his  soul  go  straying. 

The  descriptions  of  Japanese  method  and  result  were  bald 
enough  and  full  of  error.  Beneath  them,  as  through  a  tangled 
undergrowth,  he  saw  reality.  Joining  this  new  knowledge  to 
remembered  tales  of  Marco  Polo,  an  electric  spark  flashed  out. 
Old  Marco  was  not  a  mere  romancer,  then,  fellow  of  Sinbad 
and  Munchausen,  but  a  speaker  of  truths  !  There  existed  still, 
somewhere  on  earth,  those  marvellous  countries  with  old,  old 
cultures  stored  for  us  with  prophecy,  and  a  crowded  generation 
through  which  must  still  run  the  living  sap.  If  one  went 
west,  always  west,  to  the  edge  of  a  great  water,  beyond  thaV 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  29 

water  lie  would  reach  Japan,  —  as  once  Columbus  cut  the 
sands  of  Hispaniola.  At  that  first  moment  came  into  Todd's 
mind,  half  dreamily,  though  not  the  less  imperishable  because 
of  shimmering  mist,  a  determination  to  travel,  some  day,  to  that 
Far  East,  and  see  for  himself  what  Marco  Polo  must  have  seen. 

Todd,  after  his  marriage,  continued  to  grow  rich.  The 
pretty  cottage  was  abandoned  for  a  great  house  near  "  town." 
It  had  hallways,  a  porte  cochere,  and  a  huge  billiard-room 
which  none  but  the  cat  ever  visited.  The  town  itself,  in  its 
spidery  focus  of  busy  railways,  had  not  existed  when  Cyrus 
first  came.  He  had  often  strolled,  whistling,  through  future 
business  blocks,  and  over  smoking  breweries. 

The  Todds  "grew  up,"  as  they  termed  it,  with  the  place, 
Cyrus  specially  clinging  with  tenacious  loyalty  to  the  state 
which  had  made  the  background  of  so  much  happiness.  As 
Gwendolen  passed  from  a  golden  childhood  into  a  maiden- 
hood no  less  bright,  Mrs.  Todd  was  heard  to  murmur  reluc- 
tantly mild  objurgations  against  the  "  rawness  "  of  the  West, 
its  unconventionality,  and  lack  of  true  culture. 

At  fourteen,  Gwendolen  was  not  only  precocious  in  school- 
work  and  music,  but  her  beauty  promised  to  be  of  so  unusual 
and  unmistakable  a  type  that  Mrs.  Todd  took  fond  alarm,  and 
declared  that  the  child  must  go  at  once  to  New  York,  where 
she  could  be  decently  "finished."  Gwendolen  protested  and 
wept.  She  had  her  father's  happy  heart,  and  thought  that 
nothing  could  be  quite  so  near  perfection  as  their  life  at 
home.  Mrs.  Todd,  secure  in  her  conviction,  proved  inexor- 
able. Cyrus  was  appealed  to,  and  something  in  the  dejected 
look  of  his  face  gave  his  wife  a  thrill  of  triumph.  She  soon 
prevailed,  and  Todd,  in  person,  prepared  to  lead  his  one  lamb 
to  the  sacrificial  altar  of  '•'  society." 

He  left  her  on  the  brown-stone  doorstep  in  New  York,  his 
heart  far  heavier  than  her  own.  The  gay  metropolis  had  no 
attractions  then.  He  took  the  next  train  home,  tasting  his 
first  real  sorrow  since  his  mother's  death.  He  felt  cold  and 
chill  at  the  thought  of  the  big  home  emptied  now  of  his  idol. 

Mrs.  Todd  met  him,  not  with  the  expected  torrent  of  tears, 
but  with  a  face  red  and  twitching  in  excitement.  The  leading 
political  party  of  his  state  had  "  split,"  and  he,  the  farmer, 


30  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Cyrus  Todd,  was  to  be  run  for  United  States  senator.  This 
strange  news  proved  indeed  an  antidote  for  melancholy.  In 
less  than  an  hour  he  had  been  into  town,  and  learned  for  him- 
self how  the  "  land  lay."  Two  candidates,  well  matched,  with 
equal  backing,  had  just  been  declared  by  a  great  uprising  of 
conservative  voters  utterly  unsatisfactory.  Todd  was  asked  to 
be  the  dark  horse.  He  would  have  turned  from  the  proposi- 
tion flattered  and  abashed,  with  the  one  remark  that  he 
"  was  n't  the  cut  of  cloth  for  a  politician,"  but  ambition  had 
begun  to  work  like  a  fever  in  the  veins  of  Mrs.  Todd. 

Already  the  magnate  of  her  small  community,  she  wished  to 
test  her  powers  in  the  capital  itself.  She  knew  that  Gwen- 
dolen was  to  be  a  beauty,  and  recognized  the  potency  of  an 
attractive  debutante,  allied  to  a  rich  father  and  an  aspiring 
mama.  The  longest  letter  ever  penned  by  her  fat  hand 
now  sped  to  Gwendolen.  Her  arguments  were  good,  though 
turgidly  expressed.  Gwendolen  took  fire.  In  a  tumult  of 
violet-tinted  letters,  chokingly  perfumed,  she  assured  her 
father  that  the  school  in  which  she  now  languished  was  a 
cheerless  jail.  She  said  that  the  plain  fare,  particularly  the 
raw  beef,  choked  her,  and  that  the  rooms  were  kept  so  hot 
that  soon  she  must  go  into  consumption.  Above  all,  she 
was  dying  by  inches  so  far  away  from  her  "  dear,  precious, 
darling,  angelic  dad ! "  It  was  this  last  representation  that 
won.  Todd  gave  in  his  name,  made  a  few  public  speeches 
that  surprised  him  more  than  his  friends  by  their  humor, 
sparkle,  and  good  sense,  and  with  little  further  effort  received 
the  nomination. 

For  more  than  four  years,  now,  the  Todds  had  lived  in 
Washington.  Mrs.  Todd?s  initial  step  had  been  to  buy  a  good, 
substantial  home  in  a  fashionable  neighborhood.  She  soon 
realized  that  she  was  not  to  dominate  society ;  but,  after  a 
few  months  of  sulking,  she  adjusted  herself  comfortably  to  the 
new  conditions,  and  enjoyed  her  life  thoroughly.  Gwendolen 
was  put  to  the  best  private  school  in  the  city.  She  could  be 
at  home  now,  in  the  evenings,  to  play  her  father  "  those  tinkly, 
skee-daddly  pieces  "  which  he  liked.  No  homely  melodies  for 
Senator  Todd!  His  childhood  was  passed  without  them,  and 
they  bore  no  tender  recollections.  Chopin,  and  an  occasional 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  31 

rag-time  bit,  stirred  his  veins.  Gwendolen's  music-master  had 
kept  to  himself  hopes  that,  in  the  girl,  he  might  have  a  bril- 
liant result  ;  —  her  parents  had  neither  the  knowledge  nor 
the  insight  to  perceive  it  for  themselves. 

Gwendolen  was  fashioned  for  brilliant  playing.  Elemental 
or  sombre  music  baffled  her.  She  played  with  laughter, 
sometimes  with  fire,  —  by  preference  in  the  full  light  of  the 
sun.  Through  Tschaikowsky's  broken  rainbows  she  passed 
like  a  spirit.  Beethoven,  in  his  glad  moods,  seemed  a  mirror 
in  which  she  saw  herself.  Chopin  as  a  sentimentalist  she  de- 
spised, even  while  she  thrilled  to  his  unearthly  delicacy  of 
phrasing.  She  grew  steadily,  yet  remained  unconscious  of  the 
increasing  power.  She  only  knew  that,  in  certain  moods, 
it  was  almost  a  necessity  to  play,  and  that  people  liked  to 
hear  her. 

As  time  went  on,  Mr.  Todd's  political  estimate  of  himself 
began  to  be  echoed  jeeringly  by  his  opponents,  and  some- 
times reluctantly  by  his  friends.  He  had  realized  early 
enough  that  official  exigency  in  Washington  was  his  cross,  his 
penalty,  the  price  he  was  doomed  to  pay.  The  intricacies  of 
method  surprised  and  repelled  him ;  the  insincerity  met  on  all 
sides  he  designated  despairingly  as  the  "  San  Jose  scale  "  of 
humanity.  Graft,  political  jobbery,  the  oppressions  of  power, 
sickened  him.  "  I  don't  like  it,  Susan.  I  was  n't  made  for 
this  sort  of  a  harness,"  he  complained  one  day  to  his  wife. 
"  A  fellow  can't  walk  straight  or  talk  straight  in  this  life ;  and 
some  of  these  old  rum-soaked  bosses  have  actually  lost  the 
power  of  saying  what  they  mean.  These  female  lobbyists, 
too,  they  make  a  man  ashamed  to  look  a  good  wife  in  the 
face.  I  wish  we  could  quit.  I  like  politeness  and  manners, 
—  I  've  turned  off  the  road  for  a  sick  lizard  —  but  I  '11  be 
ding-danged  if  I  can  grin  and  scrape  in  the  evening  to  a 
man  who,  in  that  same  morning's  newspaper,  has  called  ine 
a  liar  and  a  thief !  " 

Mrs.  Todd  joined  him  in  a  sigh.  "  I  know  it 's  hard,  dear. 
I  realize  just  what  you  mean.  There  is  some  of  it  in  my  own 
career,  though  of  course  I  don't  expect  anybody  to  think  of 
ine!  The  airs  put  on  by  these  mushroom  aristocrats  who 
have  pulled  themselves  up  by  their  own  boot-straps  are 


32  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

enough  to  make  one  ill.  But  we  must  not  think  of  ourselves. 
It 's  Gwennie  !  Washington  is  better  for  her  future  prospects 
than  our  dear  Western  home.  We  must  try  to  endure  Wash- 
ington a  little  longer  for  her  sake."  Mrs.  Todd  made  strong 
effort  to  look  and  feel  like  an  impersonal  martyr.  She  did  not 
succeed  very  well.  Hypocrisy  had  a  tendency  to  shrivel  under 
the  keen  eyes  that  now  twinkled  appreciatively  upon  her. 

"  Just  so,"  drawled  Cyrus.  "  For  daughter's  sake  only  we 
continue  to  sip  the  nauseating  draught.  I  agree,  then.  I 
guess  our  inwards  will  not  be  seriously  impaired."  It  was 
perhaps  as  near  insincerity  as  Todd  ever  approached,  this 
clinging,  despite  better  knowledge,  to  uncultured  forms  of 
speech.  Even  in  the  senate  he  showed  determination  to 
remain  a  raw  Westerner,  rather  than  identify  himself  with 
that  sandpapered  and  lacquered  body  of  gentlemen. 

His  compensations  for  all  discomfort  were  found  in  huddled, 
intoxicating  rows  on  the  shelves  of  the  new  Congressional 
Library.  Here  his  interest  in  the  Far  East,  first  awakened 
by  the  garrulous  Venetian,  shone  back  from  a  thousand  re- 
flecting facets  of  new  truths.  He  strengthened  theory  with 
fact.  He  knew  how  many  car-loads  of  Northwestern  grain, 
how  many  bales  of  Southern  cotton  were  shipped  annually  to 
expanding  Asiatic  markets  from  our  Pacific  ports.  He  traced 
the  colonial  policies  of  Europe  back  to  the  days  when  adven- 
turous Spaniards  had  won  the  timid  Philippines,  but,  seeking 
further  glory,  had  knocked  in  vain  at  the  gates  of  Japan. 
China,  too,  the  richest  prize  in  the  East,  he  knew  to  be  stir- 
ring in  her  long  sleep.  He  believed  that  her  destiny,  central 
in  the  future  currents  of  trade,  must  become  the  key  to  the 
world's  development.  With  keen  eyes  he  watched  the  joints 
of  the  Siberian  railway,  like  a  giant  centipede,  reduplicating, 
joint  by  joint,  always  insidiously,  toward  the  storm  centre  of 
the  Yellow  Sea. 

The  old  Romans  argued  the  future  from  the  flight  of  a  bird. 
It  happened  now  to  Todd  that  the  love  of  one  schoolgirl 
for  another  brought  before  him  a  clearer  knowledge  of  baf- 
fling Eastern  questions  than  had  all  his  years  of  rapt 
apprenticeship. 

Miss  Onda  of  Tokio  (Onda  Yuki-ko,  the  full  name  had  been 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  33 

registered)  arrived,  as  boarding  inmate  of  the  fashionable 
Washington  Academy,  only  a  few  weeks  after  Gwendolen. 
She  was  dainty,  shrinking,  friendless,  and  pathetically  home- 
sick. Gwendolen  became  her  champion.  With  a  great  ruf- 
fling of  wings  she  kept  at  bay  the  impertinent  and  the  curious. 
Yuki,  thankful  from  the  first  for  the  protection,  responded 
more  slowly  to  the  love.  The  Japanese  girl  was  by  nature 
silent,  meditative,  reserved.  Above  all  she  was,  —  to  use  her 
schoolmates'  expression  —  "  different." 

It  was  fully  three  months  after  the  initial  friendship  that 
the  American  succeeded  in  enticing  her  home.  After  this,  the 
course  of  true  love  ran  smooth.  Each  Friday  night  not  passed 
with  her  Japanese  friends,  the  Kanrios,  was  spent  with  Gwen- 
dolen. Yuki  learned  to  giggle,  and  to  have  secrets,  and  dote 
on  fudge  like  any  American  schoolgirl.  She  learned  to  dress, 
too,  in  the  American  way,  and  to  heap  her  soft,  dry,  blue- 
black  hair  into  a  dusky  "pompadour." 

From  the  first  she  was  a  delight  to  Todd.  He  thought  of 
her  as  a  strange  bird  of  Paradise  rather  than  a  dove,  sent  out 
from  the  ark  of  her  country,  that  floated  for  him,  somewhere, 
on  waters  of  mystery.  He  encouraged  hesitating  confidences 
regarding  her  home  life.  Stoically  he  kept  from  laughter 
when  her  quaint  grammatical  errors  convulsed  Gwendolen 
and  Mrs.  Todd.  Through  Yuki  he  began  to  suspect  the  pas- 
sionate, vital  note  of  loyalty  which  is  the  keynote  to  Japanese 
character. 

Memories  of  her  happy  childhood  seemed  never  far  away. 
Before  the  little  feet  touched  earth,  while  still  warm  on  her 
nurse's  back,  she  had  been  taught  to  drink  in  visual  beauty. 
Heroism  was  instilled  in  her  through  toys  and  story-books, 
and  through  temple  feasts  to  gods  who  once  were  men.  Old 
age  was  something  to  be  revered,  almost  envied,  —  white  hairs 
a  benediction.  The  American  levity  and  callousness  shown  by 
the  young  to  the  old  appeared,  from  the  first,  in  Yuki's  mind, 
and  remained  ever  after,  the  chief  blot  upon  a  country  other- 
wise beloved.  Todd  saw  that  the  girl  in  her  own  land  must 
have  moved  as  though  consciously  surrounded  by  spirit.  She 
said  to  him  that,  in  Nippon,  the  air  was  awake  and  vital; 
that  there,  ever  went  on  about  men  the  tangling  and  un- 

3 


34  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

tangling  of  great  forces,  to  which  the  living  are  as  but 
shadows  on  a  moving  stream. 

Through  Yuki,  too,  he  became  a  friend,  even  an  intimate, 
of  Baron  Kanrio,  the  Japanese  minister.  To  be  intimate 
with  any  Japanese  is  a  rare  privilege,  and  Todd  knew  it. 
Many  were  the  notable  evenings  spent  in  Kanrio's  small 
private  den,  where  the  two  men  bent  together  over  records 
and  reports,  and  over  maps  whereon  they  traced  with  pro- 
phetic fingers  the  contour  curves  of  overflowing  races.  The 
insight  of  the  other  fairly  staggered  Todd.  Slowly  the 
American  breathed  in,  rather  than  acquired  by  grosser  senses, 
something  of  the  patient,  confident  loyalty  to  ideals,  —  the 
Japanese  strength  that  comes  with  absolute  spiritual  unity, 
the  power  of  race  in  the  living,  and,  more  potent  still,  in 
the  dead. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  bright  March  day,  the  fourth  and 
last  of  Gwendolen's  school  years  in  Washington,  Mrs.  Todd 
sat  alone  at  a  front  window  of  her  handsome  bedchamber, 
looking  out  dreamily  into  thickening  dusk.  The  day  was 
Friday.  Yuki  and  Gwendolen  giggled  over  a  chafing-dish  of 
fudge  in  a  room  across  the  hall.  Merry  laughter,  more  often 
from  Gwendolen,  rang  through  the  house,  trailing  pleasant 
echoes. 

Mrs.  Todd  seldom  sat  alone,  and  seldom  indulged  in  rev- 
ery.  Now,  however,  she  consciously  caressed  the  reflection 
that,  apart  from  an  obstinate  increase  of  flesh,  she  had  not  a 
trouble  in  the  world.  She  was  proud  of  her  husband,  proud 
of  her  daughter,  pleased  with  herself.  Her  mind  held  no  re- 
grets, her  closet  no  skeletons.  A  familiar  step  on  the  side- 
walk caused  her  to  look  down.  The  senator  was  returning 
early  from  the  library.  She  smiled  with  wifely  comprehen- 
sion at  the  pose  of  the  down-bent  head,  at  the  hands  thrust, 
Western  fashion,  to  the  full  depths  of  new,  English  trousers. 
"  Cy  has  something  on  his  mind,"  she  murmured.  "  He 's 
coming  to  hunt  me  up  and  get  it  off." 

She  heard  him  banging  one  downstairs  door  after  the  other, 
then  running,  with  the  lightness  of  a  boy,  up  the  stairway. 
His  tone  expressed  relief  at  seeing  her  dark  shadow-bulk 
against  the  window-frame.  "  Susan !  That  you  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  35 

"  Yes.     You  are  early,  dear.     Shall  I  ring  for  lights  ?  " 

«  No  —  no,"  cried  the  other  hastily.  "  I  'm  a  little  tired  — 
that's  all  —  and  a  little  —  excited.  This  warm  dusk  just 
suits  me.  It's  fine  to  talk  in." 

After  saying  this,  he  remained  so  long  wordless  that  Mrs. 
Todd's  curiosity  urged  the  question.  "  Was  it  anything  defi- 
nite that  you  had  to  say  ?  " 

"  Definite !     It 's  worse  than  definite.     It 's  colossal !  " 

"  Say  it  quick,  then.  I  '11  be  on  pins  and  needles  till  you 
do." 

"Well,  to  put  it  briefly  —  our  U.  S.  minister  at  Tokio, 
Jo/?-an, — Evans,  you  know,  —  Brunt  Evans  of  Illinois, — 
well,  Evans  is  on  the  point  of  resigning  because  of  ill  health, 
—  and  if  I  want  the  appointment  —  if  I  really  try,  —  " 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  don't  stop !  " 

"  Mother,  I  want  it !  "  cried  the  man,  in  a  tone  she  had  not 
heard  him  use  for  years.  "  You  know  how  I  've  always  felt 
about  that  country  !  I  want  the  appointment  as  I  have  never 
wanted  anything  since  I  got  you  !  "  His  thin  hands  twitched, 
his  eyes  pleaded.  He  might  have  been  a  schoolboy  begging 
for  the  treasure  of  a  gun,  a  horse,  a  holiday. 

"  To  give  up  —  Washington,  and  live  in  that  strange  land  ! " 
whispered  Mrs.  Todd,  as  though  fear  touched  her. 

"  It  need  n't  be  but  for  a  matter  of  four  years,  mother." 

"  Is  there  not  talk  of  war  with  Kussia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that 's  my  chief  reason  for  wanting  to  go." 

"  Do  you  realize  that  Gwendolen,  our  only  child,  is  to  grad- 
uate this  June,  and  formally  come  out  next  season  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that 's  my  chief  reason  for  wanting  to  stay." 

Mrs.  Todd  pressed  her  lips  together.  A  suspicious  gleam 
came  to  her  pale  eyes.  "  This  is  the  work  of  Yuki  Onda ! 
You  both  are  infatuated  about  that  girl." 

"My  dear  Susan,  how  utterly  unjust!  Yuki  has  no  more 
political  influence  than  our  cook.  She  does  n't  dream  of  this 
possibility,  she  or  Gwendolen  either.  You  are  the  only  one 
besides  myself  to  hear." 

"  The  girls  will  be  wild  when  they  are  told.  Gwendolen 
will  be  mad  to  go!  Society,  flattery,  success,  a  great  catch,  — 
all  I  have  worked  for  —  will  be  nothing !  "  Todd  wisely  kept 


36  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

silence.  Mrs.  Todd  rose  unsteadily  to  her  feet.  "There  is 
no  doubt  that  you  all  will  be  frantic  to  go  —  all  three  of  you 
—  without  a  thought  for  me."  Seizing  each  side  of  the 
parted  curtain,  she  stood,  as  at  a  tent  door,  staring  out  into  a 
blackening  sky. 

"  You  '11  be  a  big  gun  out  there,  Mrs.  Cyrus  Carton  Todd," 
wheedled  a  low  voice.  "  Bigger,  in  some  ways,  than  you  '11 
ever  get  to  be  over  here.  Those  foreign  embassies  are  bargain- 
counters  of  dukes  and  princes.  The  American  globe-trotters 
will  be  so  many  kneeling  pilgrims  at  your  shrine." 

Mrs.  Todd  stared  on.  Slowly  upon  the  nigh't,  as  upon  a 
transparency,  luminous  letters  began  to  form.  "  Mrs.  Todd, 
the  stately  and  distinguished  consort  of  Minister  Cyrus  Carton 
Todd,  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary 
from  the  United  States  to  Japan.  Miss  Gwendolen  de  Lancy 
Todd,  a  famous  Washington  beauty,  now  in  her  first  season." 
Beneath  the  words  appeared,  as  in  a  phosphorescent  mist,  a 
long,  long  dining-table,  rich  with  the  beauty  of  lace,  cut  glass, 
silver,  and  flowers  ;  while  ringed  about  it  leaned  and  laughed 
her  guests,  —  famous  men  and  women  of  two  worlds,  members 
of  old  nobilities,  native  princes,  and,  perhaps,  even  visitors  of 
blood  royal,  for  who,  in  these  days,  would  slight  an  invitation 
from  the  representative  of  earth's  greatest  republic  ? 

Senator  Todd  pensively  regarded  the  scallops  of  his  wife's 
uplifted  profile.  "You'd  make  a  stunning  figure  in  a  court 
dress,  mother." 

She  wheeled  fiercely  upon  him.  "  You  are  sure  Gwendolen 
suspects  nothing  ?  " 

"  Sure.  And  if  you  take  it  like  this,  dear,  she  need  never 
know  that  the  chance  was  offered." 

His  companion  gave  a  small,  irrepressible  sob.  In  an 
instant  the  long  arms  were  about  her.  "Now,  Susie,  don't 
you  be  losing  any  sleep  over  this.  I  won't  take  a  step  unless 
you  give  the  word." 

Dreading  his  tenderness  more  than  any  argument,  she  pushed 
him  away  half  laughing,  half  crying,  "No  —  no  —  go  on  with 
you  !  I  won't  be  honey-fuggled  !  I  know  your  ways.  It 
has  come  upon  me  rather  sudden,  and  I  have  n't  caught  my 
breath !  But  you  might  as  well  tell  Gwennie  and  be  done 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  37 

with  it !  I  could  n't  keep  such  a  secret  from  her,  even  if  you 
could.  It's  too  b-big!  And  she'll  be  just  wy-wy-wild  to 
go  ! "  The  last  sentence  was  a  wail. 

"Forget  it,  mother!  Drat  the  whole  thing!  Let  it  van- 
ish ! "  urged  Cyrus. 

"No  !  "  she  cried  instantly,  and  shook  her  head  with  vehe- 
mence. "  I  can't  accept  the  sacrifice." 

"  Do  you  agree,  then,  for  me  to  —  to  —  try  ?  "  asked  Todd, 
fighting  down  a  desperate  joy. 

"No-o"  she  hesitated,  "not  exactly  agree,  either;  only 
I  'm  not  willing  to  take  upon  myself  to  stop  the  whole  thing 
here  at  the  beginning.  I'm  not  the  Lord!  Maybe  this  is 
planned  out  by  higher  powers ;  and  then,  besides,"  she 
added  with  a  gleam  of  hope,  "  maybe  you  won't  get  it,  after 
all ! " 

Todd's  face  bore  a  curious  expression.  His  under  lids 
closed  slightly.  "  No,"  he  repeated  slowly,  "  maybe  I  won't 
get  it,  after  all.  But  it's  only  fair  to  tell  you  that,  if  I  am 
turned  loose  to  try,  I  'm  going  to  try  like  —  hell ! " 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

THE  Todd  household  slept  until  late  the  morning  after  the 
party.  Next  to  the  efficient  hirelings,  —  those  ball-bearing 
sockets  of  domestic  ease, — the  senator  himself  was  first  to 
awake. 

He  came  slowly  into  the  day,  as  though  passing  from  a  fair 
garden  into  one  more  fair.  That  sense  of  some  great  good, 
new-garnered,  and  in  the  warm  sweet  haze  of  sleep  not  quite 
recalled,  caressed  his  smiling  lips.  In  spite  of  dalliance,  the 
shining  consciousness  drew  near.  His  appointment  had  been 
given!  Ah,  that  was  the  new  glory!  He  was  in  effect,  at 
that  instant,  "  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipoten- 
tiary "  to  a  Wonderland!  It  was  not  the  honor  that  thrilled 
him,  but  the  opportunity.  He  would  have  a  niche  near  the 
breathing  heart  of  that  strange  country.  Proving  himself 
worthy,  he  might  go  deeper,  drinking  at  that  spiritual  fountain 
of  eternal  youth. 

Lying  now  on  his  rich,  canopied  bed,  with  all  the  luxury  of 
modern  Occidental  life  heaped  close,  Todd  told  himself  that, 
because  of  the  success,  he  was  all  the  more  a  soul,  an  indi- 
vidual, with  better  things  to  seek.  He  scorned  to  be  a  pam- 
pered animal,  possessed  by  its  possessions.  He  envied  anew 
the  clean,  sweet  poverty  of  the  samurai's  code. 

He  was  now  at  that  elevation  in  life  where  past  events 
take  proper  place,  as  in  a  landscape,  and  vistas  begin.  Yes- 
terday was  his  fiftieth  year.  By  another  coincidence  —  those 
clashings  of  star-beams  in  his  career  —  his  birthday  fell  on 
that  of  the  Japanese  Emperor. 

Looking  back  now,  he  could  see  where  streams  of  tendency, 
taking  rise  in  boyhood,  had  worked  steadily,  though  through 
seeming  deviations,  towards  this  one  great  tide  of  purpose. 
His  lonely  interest  in  rice-culture  had  been  a,  hidden  spring ; 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  39 

his  coming  to  Washington,  where  Japan's  development  was  a 
living  topic  instead  of  a  solitary  reader's  dream,  a  winding 
stream  of  fate.  Yuki  herself  was  a  deep  well  of  inspiration. 
Now  at  last  had  come  his  opportunity  to  serve,  in  one  life- 
giving  effort,  his  own  beloved  country, — and  Japan.  The 
future  widened  for  him  into  a  deep  harbor  where  great  fleets 
of  achievement  might  find  safe  anchorage. 

Yuki  entered  for  the  ten  o'clock  breakfast  in  full  street 
costume.  At  Mrs.  Todd's  lifted  eyebrows  of  inquiry,  Gwen- 
dolen, who  was  just  behind  her  friend,  explained. 

"  She  has  an  appointment  at  eleven  with  her  Hindoo  idol. 
Baron  Kaurio  said  last  night  that  dad  was  to  go  too.  Yuki 
thought  she  might  be  allowed  to  accompany  him,  if  she  were 
very  good." 

"  Of  course  ! "  said  the  senator,  heartily.  "  Glad  to  have 
her.  Prince  Hagane  gave  me  the  date,  eleven,  A.  M.,  but  he 
did  n't  mention  Yuki." 

"  Oh,  how  could  you  think  it  ?  "  drawled  saucy  Gwendolen. 
"  She  's  only  a  girl.  He  would  n't  notice  a  girl." 

"  It  rather  looks  as  if  he  had  noticed  her,"  retorted  Mr. 
Tocld.  "A  definite  appointment!  They  say  his  daily  aver- 
age of  callers  is  about  two  hundred." 

"  It  is  only  for  my  father's  sake.  He  will  give  me  a  mes- 
sage," explained  Yuki,  hastily.  "Gwendolen  is  right.  So 
great  a  man  do  not  think  much  of  girls." 

"  Humph,"  said  Gwendolen,  "  that  does  n't  go  !  He  stared 
at  you  as  if  you  were  a  candied  cherry-petal,  and  he  wanted 
to  swallow  you  at  a  gulp.  Pierre  Le  Beau  saw  it,  too. 
Heavens,  how  he  scowled !  A  regular  Medusa !  I  expect 
all  the  chrysanthemums  are  turned  to  yellow  onyx  by  his 
glare." 

Yuki  gave  a  start,  and  then  flushed  with  painful  intensity. 
"  Please  !  Please  ! "  she  was  beginning,  when  Mrs.  Todd  un- 
consciously interrupted  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

After  her  methodical  pouring  of  the  coffee,  the  good  lady 
had  plunged  into  the  morning  papers.  "Ah,  Gwendolen, 
these  notices  are  splendid!  —  better  than  I  could  have  hoped. 
Society  reporters  are  usually  so  touchy  and  carping ! " 

"  There  was  one  youthful  Mr.  Dooley  that  I  made  sure  of," 


40  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

said  Gwendolen,  calmly,  as  she  cracked  au  egg.  "I  had  the 
orchestra  strike  up  '  Call  me  thine  own  ! "  while  I  took  him  to 
a  corner  and  plied  him  with  Louis  Roederer,  Carte  Blanche !  " 

Little  Yuki  and  the  senator  drove  off  together.  Each  had 
things  to  think  of,  though  not  much  to  say.  The  carriage 
bowled  smoothly  along  asphalt  thoroughfares.  At  close  in- 
tervals small  parks  were  passed,  some  round,  some  angular, 
but  all  like  emeralds  in  a  web  of  silver-tinted  streets.  Now 
and  then  the  great  meerschaum-colored  dome  of  the  Capitol 
came  into  sudden  view,  with  its  suggestion  of  purpose  and  of 
majesty. 

The  girl's  neat  fawn-tinted  dress  was  now  supplemented  by 
furs,  and  a  wide  hat  of  brown  velvet,  with  a  silver  chain 
about  the  crown,  and  nodding  feathers.  Her  hair,  puffed 
round  her  face  in  recent  fashion,  completed  the  American- 
izing of  her  attire.  From  the  dainty  gloves,  thrust  deep  into 
her  muff,  to  the  soft  brown  boots,  she  was  modern,  chic, 
Occidental. 

At  the  Japanese  Legation,  both  Baron  Kanrio  and  the 
prince's  secretary,  Hirai,  were  awaiting  them.  The  eyes  of 
the  latter  shone  with  eagerness  at  sight  of  his  young  com- 
patriot. Kanrio  sent  them,  chattering  already  of  Japan,  into 
the  drawing-room  to  await  Yuki's  summons.  With  a  slight 
gesture  he  beckoned  to  Todd,  and  they  went  together  along 
the  hall  to  the  well-known  den. 

Hagaue  sat  in  it,  alone.  The  disposition  of  the  few  stiff 
chairs  bespoke  recent  visitors.  The  library  table,  covered 
with  green  leather,  had  maps  upon  it,  letters  and  papers,  be- 
sides a  Japanese  smoking  outfit  and  a  tray  with  tea  and  some 
small  cups. 

As  they  entered,  the  great  man  slowly  rose.  He  wore  again 
his  plain  dark  native  robes.  In  the  relentless  daylight  he 
appeared  older,  more  sallow,  and  at  the  same  time  more  im- 
pressive. His  hand-grasp  for  the  senator  was  cordiality  it- 
self. His  deep  eyes  lighted  pleasantly,  as  he  said,  "  Welcome, 
your  Excellency ! " 

Todd  started,  and  then  flushed  like  a  boy,  at  the  title. 
Kanrio  grinned  with  delight. 

"  Oh  —  er  —  beg  pardon  ;   but  it 's  the  first  time.     Rather 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  41 

knocked  me  off  iny  pins.  Thanks,  your  Highness !  I  feel  it 
a  good  omen  to  have  it  come  from  you." 

"  Shall  we  be  seated  ?  "  asked  Hagane. 

"Gomen — nasai,"  (excuse  me)  murmured  Kanrio,  with  a 
gesture.  He  removed  the  soiled  cups  from  the  table  to  the 
top  of  a  low  bookcase,  then  rang  for  fresh  cups  and  a  new  pot 
of  tea.  He  and  Hagane  took  a  few  sips,  Japanese  fashion; 
Todd  declined. 

"  I  understand,  your  Excellency,  that  your  appointment  as 
envoy  to  our  small  island  has  come  the  very  recent  time  ?  " 

"Only  last  night,  your  Highness."  Todds  eyes  met  in  un- 
embarrassed candor  those  of  Hagane.  "  Of  course  I  've  worked 
for  it.  My  heart  was  set  on  it.  The  Baron  here  has  been  an 
inspiration ! " 

"  My  dear  sir,  don't  trouble  to  recall  my  unimportant  ser- 
vice," deprecated  Kanrio. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Hagane,  slowly,  "  that  for  some  time 
you  have  honored  our  —  country  —  with  your  studious  —  in- 
terest. If  it  is  not  impertinence,  may  I  venture  to  inquire 
what  —  circumstances,  what  —  a  —  unfamiliar  categories  — 
first  stung  your  thought  to  the  pursuit  of  Far  Eastern  knowl- 
edge ? "  He  spoke  very  slowly,  slurring  neither  vowel  nor 
consonant,  and  choosing,  it  would  seem,  from  a  rich  vocabu- 
lary. Nevertheless  he  pieced  the  words  together  with  a 
slight  effort. 

Todd  knitted  his  brows,  not  in  lack  of  understanding,  but 
from  desire  to  answer  definitely  and  concisely  the  comprehen- 
sive question. 

Hagane  may  have  mistaken  the  silence,  for  he  added  imme- 
diately, "  My  English  is  — stiff,  —  not  well  —  manoeuvred.  My 
meanings  perhaps  become  involved.  Shall  not  Baron  Kanrio 
stand  as  —  interpreter  —  for  my  heavy  thought  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  said  Todd,  eagerly.  "Do  not  think  it,  your 
Highness !  I  understand  perfectly.  Your  very  misuse  of 
some  of  our  slippery  old  timeworn  words  is  illuminating. 
It  was  your  question  that  made  me  pause,  not  your  way  of 
putting  it." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  protested  Hagane,  "  I  desire  you  to  feel  no 
obligations  to  answer.  I  intended,  perhaps,  a  thinner  mean- 


42  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

ing  than  your  own  mind  has  seized.  Was  it  Japanese  Art,  as 
with  Frenchmen  ?  Statistics,  Sociology,  Political  Economy  ?  " 
Todd  noted  the  greater  ease  with  which  these  abstract  and 
philosophic  terms  were  employed. 

"None  of  these,  your  Highness,  —  and  yet  all !  My  study 
—  you  will  think  me  presumptuous,  I  fear,  —  might  not  be 
called  less  than  —  the  ultimate  destiny  of  your  race ! " 

Hagane's  smouldering  eyes  leaped  into  sudden  fire.  He 
looked  down  quickly,  as  if  to  deny  the  flame.  Todd  felt  the 
air  stir  and  tingle  with  a  new  vibration. 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency,  we  are  attempting  to  employ  valu- 
able hints  from  various  representative  governments  of  your 
enlightened  West,"  said  he,  conventionally. 

"Hints!"  echoed  Todd;  "that  is  just  the  wonder  of  you! 
They  are  hints  in  reality,  thoughts  to  be  absorbed  only  just 
so  far  as  you  need  them,  and  the  rest  chucked.  You  don't 
stick  them  on  like  plaster  to  cover  up  a  mediaeval  birthmark. 
You  have  quite  as  much  to  give  as  we,  and  you  know  it. 
Have  n't  I  watched  and  studied,  with  Kanrio  here  to  coach  ? 
You  Japanese  alone  can  combine  the  best  of  the  two  civiliza- 
tions. You  can  best  fuse  the  experience,  character,  insight, 
humanity  —  of  both  long-suffering  hemispheres.  We  Amer- 
icans are  just  ourselves;  but  you  are  we,  and  all  the  rest  of  it ! 
That 's  why  your  old  gods  set  you  on  the  fighting  line.  You 
are  a  whole  laboratory  experiment  in  sociology,  all  to  your- 
selves ! " 

"I  perceive  that  you  have  been  thinking  carefully  upon 
us,"  said  Hagaue,  still  conventional,  contained;  but  his  one 
upward  look,  instantly  withdrawn,  had  the  "swish"  of  a 
scythe. 

"  It  is  n't  all  admiration,  you  know ! "  exclaimed  Todd,  with 
an  impulsiveness  far  more  flattering  than  reserve.  "  You  have 
made,  it  seems  to  me,  some  thundering  bad  mistakes,  —  like 
the  dropping  of  Port  Arthur  at  the  first  growl  of  that  bear, 
Russia.  But  you've  got  your  second  wind  all  right.  You 
Japanese  know,  better  than  any  American  or  Englishman, 
that  Russian  preponderance  in  China  means  a  walled  con- 
tinent of  tyranny,  the  gates  guarded  by  Greek  fire.  If  you 
conquer,  your  best  interests  are  at  one  with  the  progress  of  au 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  43 

enlightened  twentieth-century  world.  Now,  your  Highness, 
deny  it  if  you  can!"  He  leaned  back,  his  thin  face  aglow. 
Hagaue  apparently  had  difficulty  in  keeping  eyes  upon  the 
table. 

"  You  —  er  —  pass  through  the  waving  branches,"  said  he, 
very  slowly,  "and  cleave  to  the  heart  of  the  tree.  So  only  are 
the  rings  of  epochs  counted.  Do  others  of  your  countrymen 
think  thus  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Todd,  "  to  be  honest,  I  judge  that  most  of  my 
countrymen  would  prefer  sitting  on  the  bough,  stealing  apples, 
rather  than  counting  concentric  rings.  I  guess  love  of  the 
East  must  have  been  born  with  me." 

"Interesting,  interesting!  "  murmured  Hagane.  "And  yet, 
your  Excellency,  though  indigenous,  something  must  have  fed 
the  growth.  Every  development  possess,  I  think,  allotted 
kind  of  nourishment." 

"  Oh,  events  contributed,  I  presume.  Now  and  then  things 
turned  up  just  when  they  were  wanted."  Todd  was  surprised 
at  his  own  ease  in  the  great  man's  presence.  He  drew  in- 
spiration, not  awe,  from  the  intelligent  eyes  and  slow,  sugges- 
tive smile.  "  Yes,  things  came  !  I  planted  your  Forty-Seven 
Ronin  into  my  biggest  field  of  wheat!  And  my  old  mule, 
Kurauosuke",  did  me  better  work  than  any  span  of  horses. 
Then,  your  Highness,  the  baron  here  —  oh,  you  need  n't 
shake  your  finger,  Baron!  —  pointed  me  to  heavenly  manna; 
and  the  child  Yuki,  my  daughter's  friend,  led  me  into  paths 
that  adult  eyes  could  never  have  seen." 

Hagane  crushed  the  red  ash  of  his  cigarette,  and  leaned 
farther  back  in  his  chair.  The  expression  of  his  face  altered 
slightly,  —  softened,  one  might  say,  were  it  not  still  so  impres- 
sive. If  waves  of  strength  and  influence  had  flowed  from 
him  before,  they  ebbed  now,  leaving  consciousness  a  little 
thin  and  dry.  Yet  all  three  men  smiled  faintly,  as  at  a 
pleasant  thought. 

"  Ah,  little  Onda  Yuki-ko,  the  child  of  my  old  kerai." 

"It  is  a  term  meaning  'feudal  retainer/"  put  in  Kanrio, 
amiably,  to  Mr.  Todd. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Hagan&,  "I  was  encouraged  last  night  to 
gee  her  so  strong  to  look  at,  and  so  —  pardon  vulgarity, 


44  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

your  Excellency,  —  so  inoffensive  to  the  eye  in  personal 
appearance." 

Todd  flung  back  his  head  and  laughed  outright.  "  Inoffen- 
sive—  that's  a  good  one!  Why,  your  Highness,  Yuki  is 
quoted  as  a  beauty  here  in  Washington.  Artists  beg  to  paint 
her,  and  swell  photographers  to  pose.  If  she  intended  casting 
in  her  lot  with  us,  she  could  have  the  pick  and  choice  of  half 
the  young  bloods  here."  He  sent  a  merry  glance  to  Kanrio, 
as  for  corroboration,  but  was  met  by  a  stare  so  blank,  so  baf- 
fling, that  his  smile  faded. 

The  prince  was  carefully,  very  carefully,  lighting  a  fresh 
cigarette.  " Pardon nez  moi !"  he  mumbled,  between  coaxing, 
initial  puffs.  "  It  is  I  who  am  the  stupidity !  '  Pick  and 
choice,  —  young  bloods' — I  fear  I  do  not  quite  —  er  — 
apprehend." 

"Your  Highness,"  Kanrio  broke  in,  "Mr.  Todd  speaks  in 
the  idiomatic  phrases  of  society.  He  desired  to  transmit  the 
impression  that  Miss  Onda  is  thought  to  be  beautiful." 

"  Ah,  is  that  it  ?      And  —  young  bloods  ?  " 

"  Young  men,  I  should  have  said.  Pardon  my  slang.  Merely 
young  men,  your  Highness,"  explained  Cyrus,  feeling  sud- 
denly quite  ill  at  ease. 

"Ah,  yes,"  muttered  Hagane  to  himself.  "I  have  a  rec- 
ollection. Last  night  — "  he  broke  off.  His  voice  was 
higher  and  a  little  careless,  as  he  asked  of  Todd,  directly, 
"  Is  Onda  Yuki-ko  to  sail  with  your  family  ? " 

"Yes.  She  had  not  intended  returning  till  next  spring. 
She  wanted  to  take  an  extra  course  in  French  or  something. 
But  she  would  n't  stay  behind,  now  that  we  are  going.  She 
and  my  daughter  are  like  sisters."  Todd  rose,  muttering  words 
to  the  effect  that  he  had  trespassed  too  long.  Hagan&  rose 
also.  Todd  felt  resentful,  though  he  could  have  assigned  no 
definite  cause.  "  Good-morning,  your  Highness,  or,  as  Miss 
Yuki  has  taught  me  to  say,  '  Sayonara ' !  I  thank  you  for  the 
honor  of  this  interview." 

The  word  "  Sayonara  "  brought  Hagane  sharply  to  himself. 
"The  thanks  belong  not  to  me,  Excellency,"  he  smiled  and 
stretched  out  a  powerful  hand.  "  Seldom  do  I  so  deeply  enjoy 
a  conversation  with  one  met  for  the  first  time.  I  consider 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  45 

that  Nippon,  and  our  Sacred  Emperor "  —  (he  paused,  and 
the  two  Japanese  bowed  deeply,)  "are  to  receive  the  con- 
gratulation." 

Power  and  purpose  thrilled  in  his  hand-clasp.  Todd  tingled 
anew  with  it.  "  What  a  man  !  What  a  bottled  genius  hauled 
up  from  a  sea  of  fate ! "  he  said  to  Kanrio,  as  they  descended 
the  stairs. 

"Prince  Sanetomo  is  one  who  does  his  duty,"  admitted 
Kanrio,  in  an  impassive  tone. 

Hirai  accompanied  Yuki  to  the  office  door.  They  went 
a  little  slowly,  considering  the  rank  of  the  summoner,  and 
talked  hurriedly  in  the  hall-ways,  each  reluctant  to  release 
a  topic  so  dear.  There  had  been  not  only  Japan  and  childhood 
to  gloat  upon,  but,  already,  reference  could  be  made  to  a  past, 
—  twelve  hours  old.  "  Do  you  remember,"  and  "  As  you  were 
saying  last  evening,"  are  potent  introductory  clauses.  Both 
young  people  had  been  born  in  Tokio,  and  though  unnamed 
to  each  other  before,  soon  established  unity  of  class,  training, 
inherited  ideals,  and  childish  experiences.  The  secretary  had 
often  heard  of  Sir  Onda  Tetsujo,  Yuki's  father,  a  knight  of 
the  old  school,  famed  for  his  stern  rectitude  and  his  loyalty 
to  a  vanished  past.  With  some  hesitation  Hirai  ventured  to 
suggest  that  he  should  consider  it  a  privilege  to  be  allowed  to 
call  upon  Sir  Tetsujo  and  his  lady,  in  their  Tokio  home.  Yuki 
urged  this  eagerly.  She  could  send  by  the  younger  man  mes- 
sages that  seemed  too  trivial  for  transmission  through  Prince 
Hagane.  "  Yes,  yes,  —  please  call  upon  them  —  do-zo ! 
They  will  receive  you  so  happily.  Ah,  and  to  think  that  you 
will  see  them  long,  long  before  I  can  come !  You  will  reach 
Nippon  before  the  maples  have  quite  burned  themselves 
away,  or  Fuji  lowered  upon  her  opal  cone  the  full  white  robe 
of  winter.  How  am  I  to  endure  the  waiting  ?  I  wish  I  were 
to  start  with  the  suite  of  Prince  Hagane  to-morrow  ! " 

Hirai's  fine  face  echoed  this  sentiment  vividly,  but  he  re- 
frained from  speech.  He  was  a  correct  young  man,  and  had 
no  intention  of  presuming  on  the  young  girl's  veneer  of 
Americanism.  He  left  her  at  the  door.  It  had  to  her  fancy, 
now,  the  feeling  of  a  shrine,  a  Shinto  temple,  approached 
through  paths  of  childish  memories.  She  lifted  one  gloved 


46  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

hand  to  knock,  and  her  lips  twitched  at  the  clamorous  instinct 
to  raise  both  hands,  rub  the  palms  together,  and  clap  thrice 
as  before  a  deity.  She  controlled  herself,  however,  shaking 
her  head  a  little  wistfully,  and  murmuring  as  to  a  voice,  "No, 
though  my  soul  still  is  Nipponese,  I  have  become  a  Christian. 
I  am  half  American,  too.  I  must  remember."  She  gave  now 
a  sharp,  determined  rap. 

"  0-id6  ! "  boomed  a  deep  voice  from  within.  Yuki's  knees 
melted.  Whatever  the  rest  of  her,  they  were  evidently  not 
American.  She  entered  with  downcast  eyes. 

Hagane  did  not  seem  to  recognize  her.  He  looked  hard,  and 
asked,  "  Is  this  Onda  Yuki-ko  ?  " 

She  lifted  the  brim  of  her  hat,  and  let  shy  eyes  rest  upon 
him.  "Your  Highness,  it  is  Yuki,  a  worthless  young  ac- 
quaintance with  whom  you  spoke  last  night."  She  used  the 
Japanese  language,  with  the  full  complement  of  honorifics. 

"An  odd  eventuation,"  said  the  other,  dryly.  "I  thought 
to  summon  the  child  of  my  old  kerai,  the  maiden  of  last  even- 
ing, —  and,  behold,  a  small,  pert  shade  from  the  Avenue  de 
1'Opera!" 

"It  does  not  augustly  displease  your  Highness?"  mur- 
mured the  girl,  not  understanding  his  full  meaning. 

"Not  at  all.  It  may  even  prove  valuable  for  Nippon,  and 
Tetsujo  could  wish  no  more.  But  be  seated,  child.  I  have 
scanty  moments  to  dole  you,  and  there  are  messages." 

"Lord,"  murmured  Yuki,  seating  herself  on  the  hard  chair 
indicated,  "it  is  too  much  for  you  to  burden  your  exalted 
memory  for  my  insignificant  satisfaction." 

Hagane  ignored  the  deprecating  whisper.  Taking  a  seat 
deliberately,  he  began,  "At  the  Shimbashi  station  of  Yedo, 
where,  since  many  notable  officers  were  to  accompany  me,  a 
great  crowd  of  well-wishers  thronged  to  say  farewell,  I  soon 
discerned  the  dark  face  and  the  proud  head  of  your  father, 
Onda  Tetsujo." 

He  paused,  smiling  slightly.  The  girl  said  nothing,  only 
bent  forward  a  little,  her  face  full  of  unconscious  excitement. 

"  Close  behind  him,  gentle,  clinging,  self-effacing,  as  a  good 
wife  should  always  be,  I  saw  —  " 

Yuki,  forgetting  her  breeding,  fairly   snatched  the  words 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  47 

from  his  mouth.  "My  mother,  —  I  know,  Lord,  it  was  my 
dear  mother  !  And  the  old  nurse  Suzume,  was  she  there  ?  " 

"  There  was,  indeed,  a  female  something  that  incessantly 
bowed,  and  drew  breath  with  a  ferocity  that  drowned  the 
hissing  of  the  engine.  Has  that  the  air  of  Suzume  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  her  very  self.  Oh,  how  can  I  wait  to  get  back 
home  !  Ten  weeks,  Lord,  before  I  am  to  start!" 

"The  words  uttered  by  your  parents  were  these,  —  I  may 
not  recall  the  exact  terms,  but  I  have  their  purpose  clear. 
First,  Iriya  said :  '  Tell  to  our  child  that  empty  hearts  and  a 
cheerless  home  ache  through  this  night  of  absence,  for  her 
coming.'  Her  soft  eyes  touched  my  heart,  though  men  call 
me  stern.  Ere  I  could  bow  assent,  your  father  Tetsujo  — 
ah  ha  !  that  old  kerai,  the  unreconstructed  feudal  knight !  — 
pushed  rudely  past,  and  cried  to  me,  'Taint  memory  with  no 
such  puerile  demand,  my  Lord!  Say  to  the  girl  that  hearts 
and  aches  are  nothing.  As  long  as  I  have  yen  to  forward, 
let  her  remain  until  she  is  fitted,  though  a  woman,  to  be  of 
some  slight  service  to  her  land.  I  pray  you,  Lord,  to  judge  of 
her.  Should  she  need  to  stay  full  ten  years  longer,  I  would 
not  repine.  I  have  no  son.  She  is  the  substitute.  Empty 
hearts,  aching  nights,  bah  !  Crumbling  barley  sugar  of  a 
weak  spirit !  Midzu-ame  in*  a  human  jar !  Good  Iriya,  my 
wife,  I  advise  you  to  cease  your  prayers  before  concessive 
deities,  and  learn  to  worship  more  sincerely  our  God  of  War. 
He  is  to  be  the  flaming  incarnation  of  this  epoch  !' ' 

"  I  can  see  —  I  hear  them  both,"  said  Yuki.  "  My  father 
is  right,  — though  the  tears  that  must  have  stung  my  mother's 
eyes  do  now  sting  mine.  Lord,  shall  you  think  me  fit  to  go 
to  such  a  father  ?  I  have  done  what  the  Americans  call  — 
graduate.  I  have  even  received  prizes  for  good  study." 

"  Do  they  offer  prizes  here  for  doing  duty  ?  An  immoral 
practice,  especially  for  the  young,  — instilling  envy,  cupidity. 
But  it  concerns  me  not.  Your  question,  Yuki,  —  are  you 
fitted  to  return?  I  cannot  give  myself  time  to  be  satisfied 
entirely  with  the  fitness ;  but,  for  other  reasons,  I  am  well 
aware  that  it  is  time  for  you  to  return.  His  Excellency,  Mr. 
Todd,  spoke  of  the  first  of  the  New  Year.  I  wish  it  were 
to-morrow." 


48 

"Lord,"  faltered  the  girl,  "are  your  august  utterances 
heavy  with  reproof  ?  Have  you  charges  of  misconduct 
against  me  ?  "  Her  guilty  heart  ran,  as  a  thief  for  a  hidden 
treasure,  to  the  thought  of  Pierre  Le  Beau  and  the  half-troth 
her  weakness  had  allowed  him  to  secure.  The  next  words  of 
the  great  man  relieved  her  strangely. 

"Nay,  nay,  little  one,  I  have  heard  of  no  wrong.  Look 
not  so  fearful ;  one  would  think  me  Emma-0,  the  Lord  of 
Hell,  in  the  flesh.  My  thought  was  chiefly  that,  just  now,  even 
your  present  acquirements  might  serve  Nippon." 

"  Ah,  it  is  of  war  you  hint !  Here,  many  believe  that  it  will 
not  come.  Is  it  to  come,  Lord  ?  "  She  had  drawn  very  close. 
Hagane  perceived,  as  one  looking  at  a  picture,  the  exquisite 
balance  of  features  in  the  pointed  oval  face,  the  pale  width  of 
brow  under  clouds  of  dusty  hair,  the  refinement,  the  trem- 
bling sensitiveness  of  lips  and  chin.  His  eyes  held  a  certain 
keen,  inscrutable  inteutness  of  regard.  The  corners  now 
wrinkled  slightly  with  a  smile. 

"A  nightingale  studies  not  with  a  maker  of  swords,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  Yet  may  the  nightingale's  note  give  warning 
where  the  sword  could  not  avail.  What  one  has  not  heard, 
cannot  be  told.  It  is  a  time  when  the  whispering  of  leaves  is 
to  be  shunned,  and  the  fall  of  the  petals  counted." 

Yuki  caught  her  underlip  between  her  teeth  to  steady  its 
trembling.  Again  she  felt  reproved,  though  nothing  could  be 
kinder  than  the  great  man's  voice. 

"Four  years,"  he  mused  aloud,  "four  years!  Small  space 
of  time  to  us  who  are  on  the  heights,  —  but  to  the  young, 
still  wandering  happily  on  flowered-covered  slopes,  it  is  long, 
quite  long.  Ah,  little  Yuki,  it  is  but  yesterday  that  you  came, 
as  a  child,  to  my  Tabata  villa.  You  clung  timidly,  at  first,  to 
Tetsujo's  hand ;  but  the  serving-maids  soon  won  you  to  the 
air.  After  that,  at  my  request,  Tetsujo  brought  you  often. 
You  were  a  scarlet  poppy  turned  loose  in  that  dim  old  garden. 
My  eye  would  follow  you  through  passages  of  the  good 
Tetsujo's  somewhat  prosy  discourse.  You  used  to  perch 
upon  the  gray  rocks  of  the  pond,  and  fish  for  hours,  throwing 
back  the  small  wriggling  bits  of  gold  as  soon  as  caught.  Do 
you  remember,  Yuki  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF   THE  GODS  49 

"Yes,  Lord,  well  do  I  remember,"  said  Yuki,  her  mouth 
trembling  into  laughter.  The  self-consciousness  faded.  He 
knew  that  it  would  be  so.  It  was  for  this  that  he  had  con- 
trived the  long  speech  of  reminiscence.  "  Once,"  she  went  on 
shyly,  "  once,  into  that  pond  I  fell,  screaming  with  terror  to 
think  that  certainly,  now,  all  the  goldfish  would  make  haste 
to  bite  their  enemy." 

"  Their  best  revenge,  I  take  it,  was  in  the  cold  you  caught," 
laughed  the  prince. 

"Nay,  Highness,"  said  she,  gravely,  "no  cold  at  all  did  I 
acquire.  The  maid-servants  and  thy  divine,  pitying  princess 
rescued  me.  They  changed  my  worthless  garments,  and  urged 
upon  me  much  hot  tea  and  a  small,  sweet  powder.  Indeed, 
but  for  the  trouble  my  clumsiness  occasioned,  I  enjoyed  more 
the  falling  into  that  august  pond  than  the  fishing  beside  it." 

Hagane  smiled  a  little  abstractedly.  He  did  not  laugh 
again.  He  turned  to  the  table  and  smoothed  the  corners  of  a 
document.  "The  villa  has  no  princess  now,  my  child.  In 
my  many  houses  I  come  and  go  alone." 

Yuki  looked  upon  the  floor.  "My  spirit  is  poisoned  by 
your  sorrow,  Lord.  Forgive  my  great  rudeness  in  men- 
tioning. I  did  not  know." 

He  drew  a  short,  impatient  sigh.  "  The  princess  resides 
again  with  her  own  people  in  Choshiu.  But  these  matters 
have  interest  for  none  but  me.  Hark,  is  that  not  the  hour 
of  noon  now  striking?  I  must  dismiss  you."  She  rose  in- 
stantly at  his  words.  He  followed  with  more  deliberation. 
She  turned  to  the  door,  then  wavered  back  to  him,  distressed 
evidently  by  thoughts  she  shrank  from  voicing. 

"  Speak,  child,"  he  said  kindly,  "  no  mad  haste  is  necessary. 
Say  what  you  will." 

Still  she  moved  soundless  lips.  In  some  inexplicable  way 
she  had  fallen  short.  It  was  not  only  that  she  felt  she  had 
not  reached  his  highest  expectations,  but,  more  definitely,  she 
had  failed  to  reach  her  own.  Her  acquired  Americanism 
crackled  on  her,  like  a  useless  husk.  She  thirsted  for  new 
strength.  Before  her  stood  one  able  to  give  it,  yet  she  could 
find  no  words  to  ask.  "  It  is  ten  —  weeks  before  I  can  start 
home,  Lord,"  she  managed  at  last  to  articulate.  "  I  am  only 

4 


50  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

a  girl,  but  I  would  die  for  Nippon,  for  my  Emperor.  What  — 
what  —  "  Again  she  faltered. 

Hagane  took  a  small  hand  in  his  own  and  smiled  reassur- 
ance. "Only  the  very  young  and  inexperienced  think  it 
necessary  to  state  willingness  to  die  for  a  country.  Give 
me  the  coming  thought." 

"  In  these  last  weeks  what  can  I  do,  —  what  can  I  suffer, 
—  how  shall  I  pray,  —  that  I  may  make  myself  worthy  of 
return  ? " 

The  smile  on  the  overhung  dark  face  saddened  into  a  look 
far  tenderer  than  smiling.  Yuki  felt  virtue,  like  a  fluid,  rush 
through  her  from  his  touch.  "Keep  always  to  the  thought 
that  you  are  Nipponese,  —  that  you  guard,  in  yourself,  an  im- 
mortal spirit,  powerful  for  good  or  ill.  Let  not  the  tendrils 
of  your  outreaching  soul  cling  to  alien  ideals,  for,  if  so,  each 
in  the  twining  means  a  wrench  and  a  scar,  and  the  unscarred 
soul  is  sweeter  to  the  gods.  Think  nothing  of  the  body, — 
of  personal  desires,  of  personal  reward.  Say  to  yourself 
always,  '  It  is  enough  to  be  a  Nipponese.' " 

Yuki  was  already  stilled  and  comforted.  "  Lord,"  she  said, 
lifting  brave  eyes,  "  I  think  it  true  that  the  lowliest  among 
us,  through  self-striving,  may  become  a  god.  My  little  spark 
of  light  has  slept  until  this  moment.  I  can  never  again  be 
quite  the  same  girl  who  came  into  this  room.  I  will  curve 
the  memory  of  your  words  about  my  spirit,  as  one  shields  his 
candle  from  a  wind." 

"  In  Nippon  I  see  you  next,  my  Yuki.  And  now,  '  Sa- 
yonara,'  till  that  time." 

"  Sayonara,"  whispered  Yuki,  and  hurried  out  into  a  new 
day. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

PREPARATIONS  for  an  unexpectedly  early  start  kept  the  Todd 
family  in  a  condition  of  strained  excitement.  When  the  ten- 
sion did  relax  (Mrs.  Todd  had  more  than  once  warned  them), 
they  would  all  probably  shoot  off  into  eternity,  mere  dull  bits 
of  leaden  weight,  as  from  a  boy's  rubber  sling.  Yet  in  these 
days  the  good  lady  had  little  time  for  speculations,  whether 
mournful  or  the  reverse.  She,  Gwendolen,  and  Yuki  began  at 
once  a  round  of  shopping  and  dressmaking.  Officious  lady 
friends  who  had  lived  or  visited  in  Japan  hastened  to  tell  of 
certain  articles  necessary  to  the  civilized  female  which,  abso- 
lutely, were  not  to  be  procured  in  Japan.  At  first  Mrs.  Todd 
hearkened  eagerly,  and  made  lists  for  future  shopping  ;  but  she 
invariably  lost  the  lists,  and,  after  the  first  week,  began  to 
notice  that  some  particular  item  declared  by  one  gesticulating 
visitor  to  be  unpurchasable  west  of  San  Francisco,  would,  by 
the  next,  be  named  as  a  thing  produced  in  full  perfection  only 
by  Yokohama  cobblers,  jewellers,  cabinet-makers,  tanners,  or 
tailors,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Much  in  the  same  manner,  whereas  one  matron  declared  the 
Japanese  servant  a  fiend,  laden  with  an  accumulation  of  do- 
mestic vices  from  the  days  of  Pharaoh  down,  the  next  would 
congratulate  Mrs.  Todd  on  being  about  to  enter  upon  an  ex- 
perience rare  to  this  hemisphere,  —  perfect  service,  intelli- 
gently and  cheerfully  given. 

The  pleasant  home  on  M  street  was  abandoned,  the  occu- 
pants moving  to  a  hotel.  This  was  done  that  Mrs.  Todd 
might  personally  supervise  the  packing  and  storing  of  fur- 
nishings grown  dear  through  pleasant  association.  More  than 
one  stealthy  tear  plashed  on  an  unresponsive  packing-case. 

Gwendolen's  brimming  joy  gave  room  for  but  one  regret. 
That  lived  and  died  in  a  single  glance,  as  she  saw  her  grand 
piano,  ignominiously  tilted,  pathetically  legless,  carried  past 


52  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

her  through  the  wide  front  door,  and  down  to  the  waiting 
hearse  of  a  van. 

Mrs.  Todd  went  to  bed,  during  this  strenuous  period,  imme- 
diately after  dinner.  She  urged  her  daughter  to  follow  the 
good  example  and  get  "  rested  "  for  struggles  to  come.  But 
"  No,"  said  Gwendolen,  laughing.  "  There  will  be  plenty  of 
time  to  rest  when  I  'm  old.  I  can't  waste  life  now  !  " 

Many  of  the  girl's  evening  hours  were  devoted  to  Mr.  Dodge 
and  what  he  was  pleased  to  term  "  Lessons  in  Japanese." 
When  Yuki  and  Pierre  were  present,  —  Yuki  now  resided  per- 
manently at  the  Japanese  Legation,  —  the  Oriental  listener 
would  often  need  to  bury  a  crimsoning  face  in  crumpled  sleeves 
to  hide  her  mirth.  Mr.  Dodge's  vocabulary  was  large,  especially 
in  the  way  of  amorous  and  complimentary  phrases,  but  his 
syntax  and  his  pronunciation  were  things  new  on  this  planet. 
Pierre  laughed  too,  with  a  superiority  born  of  Yuki's  private 
instruction.  Gwendolen  stoutly  defended  her  professor,  say- 
ing that  his  way  of  speaking  the  language  sounded  easier  and 
more  natural  than  Yuki's  own. 

Mr.  Dodge,  by  one  of  those  fortuitous  happenings  that  lay, 
for  him,  like  pebbles,  in  every  chosen  path,  had  found  that  he 
would  be  compelled  to  return  to  his  post  of  duty  by  the  same 
steamer  on  which  the  Todds  were  to  sail.  When  he  made 
this  bold  announcement,  accompanied  by  a  triumphant  side- 
glance  at  Gwendolen,  the  girl  was  surprised  to  feel  her  heart 
give  a  warning  throb.  Despite  her  skill  in  the  game  and  her 
audacity,  she  began  to  realize  that  in  this  young  person  she 
had  probably  met  her  equal.  She  rallied  quickly  in  the  face  of 
danger.  Exhilaration  took  the  place  of  fear.  She  knew  she 
was  in  for  a  good  fight,  and  began  at  once  to  employ  her  other 
admirers  in  the  way  of  Indian  clubs  and  dumb-bells.  Dodge 
very  properly  went  home  to  South  Carolina  a  few  weeks 
before  sailing,  and  did  not  return  to  Washington  until  the 
time  of  final  departure. 

If  Yuki  trembled  at  thought  of  her  long  days  on  an  en- 
chanted voyage,  with  Pierre  for  closest  comrade,  her  new 
strength,  born  of  Hagane,  smiled  down  the  apprehension. 
Not  only  would  she  refuse  to  yield  to  that  beloved  one  a 
deeper  pledge,  but,  if  possible,  she  would  win  back  from  him 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  53 

tho  half-troth  already  given.  She  longed  to  return  to  her 
country,  to  her  people,  free  of  obligation.  Her  reverence 
demanded  it.  She  should  belong  only  to  herself  and  them. 
So  should  she  have  a  clearer  road  in  which  to  approach  the 
subject  of  a  foreign  marriage.  Pierre,  as  yet,  refused  to  see 
this  vital  point.  He  must  be  made  to  see.  On  those  long 
balmy  evenings  on  the  ship,  with  the  moon's  sweet  influence 
to  help  her,  yes, — she  could  convince  him, — she  would 
triumph ! 

While  Senator  Todd  made  his  own  few  preparations,  talked 
with  all  manner  of  congressmen  on  the  ever-present  topic  of 
the  threatened  Far  Eastern  conflict,  or  reasoned  with  brother 
senators  who  decried  so  unconventional  a  thing  as  resignation 
from  their  august  midst,  —  Pierre  harassed  the  French  Lega- 
tion for  confirmation  of  an  appointment  almost  given,  yet  now, 
at  the  last,  tantalizingly  withheld.  After  insistent  efforts,  the 
best  that  he  could  gain  was  assurance  that,  in  Tokio  itself, 
in  the  hands  of  Count  Eonsard,  the  present  French  minister, 
he  would  almost  surely  find  his  credentials  waiting.  Pierre, 
at  his  princess-mother's  instigation  had  written  personally  to 
this  Count  Ronsard.  "An  old,  dear  friend  of  ours,  mon 
fils,"  wrote  Madame  Olga.  "Quite  close,  I  assure  you.  He 
will  be  felicitated  to  offer  what  he  can." 

Pierre  and  Yuki  in  their  many  talks  had  come  to  believe 
that  an  assured  diplomatic  position  in  Tokio  would  greatly 
strengthen  their  chances  for  an  early  marriage.  Their  young 
ardors  were  to  blow  the  drowsy  coals  of  French  and  Japanese 
friendship.  Their  lives  must  have  an  influence  for  good ! 
At  such  times  the  future  glowed  with  a  heavenly  dawn.  Pierre, 
ever  since  his  arrival  in  Washington,  little  less  than  a  year 
ago,  had  been  a  special  favorite  with  Mrs.  Todd.  In  the 
first  place,  he  was  a  joy  only  to  look  upon,  having  personal 
beauty  to  a  degree  almost  irritating  in  a  man.  He  possessed, 
also,  that  subtler  and  rarer  power  called  "charm."  A  great 
factor  in  his  success  was  unfailing  courtesy  toward  elderly 
women.  He  knew  well  the  might  of  the  chaperon.  He  cared 
little  for  men  in  any  country,  and  the  aggressive  American 
he  found  peculiarly  unattractive.  But  a  woman,  no  matter 
what  her  age,  race,  or  weight,  was  still  a  woman.  Middle- 


54  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

aged  sighs  fed  his  vanity  equally  with  the  giggling  of  debu- 
tantes in  their  first  snare.  He  was  not  a  Don  Juan,  far  from 
it,  —  but  a  pleasure-loving,  life-loving  boy,  who  had  never 
been  refused  a  thing  he  wanted,  and  never  intended  to  grudge 
himself  a  moment's  delight  that  could  be  honorably  enjoyed. 
His  ideas  of  this  honor,  —  it  may  be  well  to  add,  —  were 
French.  At  different  stages  in  his  short  career,  Pierre  had 
been  or  tried  to  be,  in  turn,  a  hermit,  an  atheist,  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest  like  Francis  of  Assisi,  an  actor  of  old  French 
classics,  a  poet,  and  an  artist  of  the  Chavannes  school.  With 
him  one  passion  burned  supreme.  One  fuse  must  disappear 
before  a  new  one  could  be  lighted.  He  had  met  Yuki  first 
in  the  Todd  drawing-rooms,  on  one  of  those  Friday  evenings 
allotted  to  the  schoolgirls  for  receiving  friends.  She  chanced 
to  be  wearing  full  Japanese  attire  of  a  soft,  cloudy  blue, 
a  sash  brocaded  in  silver  ferns,  and  a  cluster  of  the  gold- 
colored  "  icho  "  berries  drooping  in  her  blue-black  hair.  As  his 
eyes  fell  upon  her,  Pierre's  past  visions  went  to  cold  ash.  All 
the  poetry,  the  mysticism,  the  intellectuality,  the  exaggeration 
of  discarded  hopes  flared  now  into  a  single  new  white  flame 
of  adoration. 

December  came.  Christmas  festivities  impinged  on  the 
travellers'  routine  of  preparations.  Days  which,  at  first, 
Gwendolen  had  declared  interminable,  accelerated  strangely 
in  progress,  like  round  stones  started  down  a  gradual  slope. 
During  that  last  crowded  week,  Todd  had  his  final,  most  impor- 
tant interview  with  the  President  and  the  Secretary  of  State. 
He  was  urged  to  impart  with  absolute  freedom  his  personal 
opinions  of  the  coming  struggle,  and  its  probable  outcome  for 
the  world.  In  return  he  was  given  full  and  satisfactory  in- 
structions. He  left  the  executive  mansion  strengthened  in 
purpose,  and  clarified  in  his  own  beliefs. 

At  the  station,  on  the  morning  of  departure,  an  unexpectedly 
large  crowd  gathered  to  say  "  Farewell."  Prominent  were 
the  Kanrios  and  their  diplomatic  suite.  Gwendolen's  youth- 
ful friends  of  both  sexes  advanced  like  an  animated  flower- 
garden,  so  profuse  were  the  bouquets.  The  French  ambassador 
also  was  there.  A  Russian  attache  insisted  upon  kissing 
Pierre  good-bye. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  55 

The  two  drawing-rooms  of  the  sleeper  "Nurino"  were  so 
heaped  with  dulcet  offerings  that  the  legitimate  occupants 
—  hurrying  in  to  the  warning  cry  of  "  Buo-o-o-ord ! "  —  were 
forced  to  seek  temporary  accommodation  in  the  open  car. 

"Why!  It's  just  like  setting  off  for  anywhere!"  cried 
Gwendolen,  a  little  blankly,  as  the  train  drew  out  through 
acrid  smoke,  and  old  familiar  landmarks  began  their  flight 
backward,  to  the  city. 

"Who  cares  about  the  setting  off?  It's  the  roosting  on, 
that  counts ! "  carolled  the  optimistic  Dodge. 

The  train  pulled  steadily,  now,  for  the  South.  After  much 
disagreement  and  discussion,  and  the  bending  of  yellow,  black, 
and  brown  heads  over  countless  railroad  folders,  —  each  with 
its  own  route  in  a  pulsing  artery  of  red,  —  they  had  decided 
for  a  southern  tour.  No  one  of  the  party  except  Dodge,  who, 
if  one  chose  to  believe  him,  held  acquaintance  with  all  corners 
of  the  globe,  had  been  lower  than  the  Potomac  Eiver.  Mrs. 
Todd  remembered  an  aunt,  native  of  New  Orleans.  The  aunt 
had  died  long  since,  but  the  city  remained.  They  were  to 
have  a  glimpse  of  the  Gulf  Coast,  and  at  least  two  days  in  the 
sleepy,  picturesque,  yet  hugely  prosperous  Crescent  City. 

The  month  was  January,  in  most  places  a  bad  month  for 
weather ;  but  in  this  opening  of  the  year  1904  the  South  was 
apparently  bent  upon  justifying  its  conventional  adjective  of 
"  sunny."  The  little  party  left  Washington  in  a  scourge  of 
sleet  and  a  pall  of  gray ;  it  reached  New  Orleans  to  find  the 
whole  city,  Creole  alleys  traced  three  centuries  ago  and  broad 
avenues  of  later  wealth,  alike  glorified,  —  "  paved  with  after- 
noon." Scarcely  a  gulf  breeze  stirred.  The  levees  by  the 
muddy  river  lay  like  saurians,  with  turpentine  and  sugar 
barrels  and  bursting  cotton  bales  upon  their  backs,  in  lieu  of 
scales.  In  city  gardens,  palm-trees  stood  at  "  present  arms  " 
of  glossy  rectitude.  Pansies,  daisies,  and  other  small  bed- 
ding flowers  bloomed  in  the  open  air.  Potted  ferns  or  crotons 
stood  about  on  broad  galleries,  or  upon  the  shell- white  walks 
bordering  emerald  lawns. 

Gwendolen  declared  it  a  delusion,  a  mirage,  deliberately 
planned  for  their  entanglement.  Yuki  admitted  that  even 
Japan  could  not  offer  so  tropic  a  feast  to  the  eye  in  January. 


56  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Mrs.  Todd  found  her  greatest  satisfaction  in  "doing"  the 
place.  Dodge,  of  course,  was  cicerone.  He  led  them  to  the 
old  French  market  and  gave  them  a  strange,  steaming  elixir, 
brewed  in  huge  copper  vats  and  misnamed  mere  "coffee."  He 
knew  the  small  lair  called  "  Beguet's,"  where  alone  on  earth, 
he  solemnly  affirmed,  real  breakfasts  were  to  be  procured. 
He  hired  a  box  at  the  French  Opera  for  Sunday  night. 

"  Sunday  ! "  Mrs.  Todd  gasped,  with  upraised  hands  and  eyes. 

"  Sunday ! "  echoed  Yuki,  less  vociferously,  but  with  a  cor- 
responding air  of  pained  astonishment. 

"  Certainement !  "  ejaculated  Pierre,  who  was  beginning  to 
feel  at  home.  "It  is  transplanted  Paris.  Why  not  Sunday 
night,  better  than  another  ?  All  persons  have  been  to  mass, 
except  our  naughty  selves.  The  piety  of  the  others  may 
chance  to  include  us.  God  is  good!  Allons !  The  opera  is 
Faust,  with  the  full  ballet  and  music.  Time  means  little 
here  !  Vive  New  Orleans  !  "  After  a  laughing  glance  into 
Mrs.  Todd's  still  dubious  countenance  he  whispered,  insinu- 
atingly, "It  is  never  to  be  known  in  Washington  or  — 
Tokio  —  dear  Madame." 

In  the  end  he  carried  his  point  and  his  party.  Never  had 
he  been  in  such  spirits.  Yuki  could  scarcely  keep  her  eyes 
from  his  radiant  face.  Mr.  Todd  declared  him  a  mineral 
spring  that  had  just  blown  its  way  through  a  boulder.  He 
stopped  turbaned  mammies  or  wondering  children  on  the 
banquets,  —  which  in  New  Orleans  means  sidewalks,  — that  he 
might  elicit,  by  his  correct  Parisian  French,  answers  in  the 
delicious  native  patois.  At  each  success  he  hugged  himself 
anew. 

"C'est  Qa,  mgrne!  Mo  pas  geignin  1'argeut  pour  butin  c,i 
lala !  "  he  murmured  ecstatically.  "  Geignin  plein  ! "  Passing 
the  cathedral,  Pierre  asked  of  a  lounging,  large-hipped  negress : 
"  Est-ce  qu'il  y  a  la  messe  a  la  Cathedrale  dernain  ? "  to 
receive  the  impudent  answer: 

"  Sainte  Pitie !  Est~9e  que  vous  croire  que  le  va  leve  apres 
so'  bon  diner  au  poisson  pou'  vini  donner  nous  autres  la  sainte 
messe  ?  Bon  Dieu  la  Sainte  Vierge  !  Ha !  Ha ! " 

"Holy  Mother!  But  it  is  French,  en  glace, —  crushed, 
with  the  cream  swimming  and  the  flavor  heightened!" 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  57 

Todd  alone  stared  out  across  the  dim,  majestic  river 
through  De  Soto's  eyes.  He  tried  to  feel  himself  the  man,  to 
prophesy  as  that  seer  had  prophesied.  The  great  city  and  tbe 
long  levees  were  builded  in  that  vanished  mind,  before  the 
first  adobe  brick  was  moulded,  or  the  first  dark  cedar  hewn. 
Now  in  himself,  as  Todd  the  new  American  minister,  he  felt 
the  country  of  his  dreams  creep  nearer,  lured  by  the  magnet 
of  the  Panama  Canal.  Within  his  own  life,  should  God  be 
pleased  to  spare  him  to  a  fair  old  age,  new  craft  would  thread 
the  Mississippi  delta,  small  merchantmen  at  first,  and  sail- 
ing vessels,  each  with  the  banner  of  the  red  sun  on  its  mast. 
Asiatic  labor,  silent,  skilful,  insidious,  would  contest  for  pre- 
eminence with  the  saturnine  Dago,  the  "cayjin,"  the  Quadroon, 
and  the  established  African. 

Each  moment,  westward  from  the  city,  held  a  novelty  and  a 
delight.  The  sugar-fields  of  Louisiana,  stretching  for  leaden- 
colored  miles,  and  soon  to  be  pierced  by  myriad  tiny  spears 
of  awakening  green,  appeared  to  Yuki  a  giant  sort  of  rice-field 
from  her  own  land. 

"  If  it  were  cut  up  into  many  small  piece,  all  of  different 
shape  and  size,  with  little  crooked  baby-levees  binding  the 
edges,  —  it  would  be  exacterlee  the  winter  rice-fields  of 
Nippon." 

Sometimes,  in  an  island  of  higher  ground,  the  white-col- 
umned house  of  a  sugar-planter  gleamed,  and  near  it  rose 
mammoth  live  oaks,  huge  tumuli  of  green,  the  underbranches 
swaying  with  grizzled  moss.  In  the  open  country,  such  trees 
crouched  low  above  stealthy  creeks,  or  blotted  widening 
lagoons. 

While  in  the  city,  they  had  read  and  heard  of  recent  heavy 
rains  to  the  West,  flooding  a  wide  agricultural  district.  On 
the  borderland  of  Texas,  they  knew  they  had  reached  the 
threatened  fields.  Cypress,  magnolia,  sweet  gum,  and  bay 
trees  stood  knee  deep  in  a  sea  of  dull  chrome,  churned  from 
roads  of  clay.  It  seemed  a  lake  of  yellow  onyx.  Between 
the  trunks  writhed  a  tropical  disorder  of  vines,  palmetto,  and 
undergrowth.  In  wide,  clear  spaces,  drifting  fence  rails  or 
half-submerged  buildings  told  of  ruin  already  accomplished. 
Now  the  whole  unstable  sea  was  covered  by  a  carpet  of  the; 


58  THE   BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

floating  "water-hyacinth,"  which,  in  later  months,  was  to 
turn  the  bayous  and  lagoons  into  veins  of  amethyst.  It 
seemed  incredible  to  the  little  party,  staring  solemnly  from 
train  windows,  that  they  were  in  temperate  America  at  all. 
Every  floating  spar  of  wood  became  an  alligator's  head,  every 
springing  tuft  of  white  swamp  flower  a  meditative  stork. 

Night  fell  swiftly  upon  the  watery  forest,  sucked  down  into 
it  as  to  a  familiar  lair.  With  the  next  morning,  the  world 
had  changed  to  a  dry  desert,  above  which  arched  an  unrelated 
sky. 

"  Can  we  really  be  on  the  same  planet  ?  "  asked  Gwendolen ; 
"or  in  the  night,  did  this  little  measuring- worm  of  a  train 
reach  up  and  pull  itself  to  Mars  ?  " 

Before,  behind,  everywhere,  stretched  spaces  of  exhausted 
gray  sand,  rising  now  and  again  into  nerveless  hills.  For 
vegetation  were  set  innumerable  rosettes  of  the  spiked  yucca, 
with  small  heaps  of  the  prickly  pear,  a  cactus  bush  built  up 
of  fleshy  bulbs,  leaf  out  of  leaf,  like  inflated  green  coral.  On 
some  of  the  thorny  ridges  perched  star-like,  yellow  blooms. 
On  others  were  stuck  thick,  purple  fingers,  known  politely  by 
the  name  of  "figs."  Dodge  remarked  sententiously  that  it 
was  a  very  interesting  plant;  though,  by  raisers  of  cattle,  not 
considered  desirable.  "  Stock  won't  eat  it  a  little  bit,"  he 
explained  cherubically.  "  Get  stickers  into  their  noses." 

"  Do  you  call  that  thing  a  plant  ?  "  cried  Gwendolen,  point- 
ing. "  It  may  grow,  but  it  is  no  more  a  plant  than  a  canary 
is  a  crab." 

Dodge  smiled  again,  the  irritating  smile  of  the  well- 
informed.  "  Wait  till  to-morrow  in  Arizona,  if  you  want  to 
know  how  it  feels  to  be  struck  dumb." 

Gwendolen  tossed  her  head.  Her  tendency  during  these 
initial  days  was  to  overact  indifference. 

"I  rather  think  I  shall  not  undergo  the  humiliation  of 
incapacity  to  speak!  Life  heretofore  has  brought  no  crises 
in  which  I  could  not  command  a  fairly  adequate  linguistic 
expression  of  my  visual  experiences." 

"Whew,  —  how  did  you  remember  it  all?"  said  Dodge 
under  his  breath.  Yuki  turned  her  intense  face  from  the 
window.  At  sight  of  the  absorbed,  half-dazed  expression, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  59 

Gwendolen  gave  a  little  laugh,  crying,  "Here  is  one  already 
nearing  the  borders  of  silence  !  That  is  Yuki's  way.  When 
she  begins  to  feel  things,  she  draws  back  in  her  shell,  and  puts 
sealing-wax  on  the  door.  What  is  it  now,  Yuki,  —  lack  of 
English,  — -  that  keeps  you  so  dumb  ?  " 

"No,  not  exacterlee,"  said  Yuki,  flushing  a  little  at  the 
turning  of  all  eyes.  "  I  have  not  good  English,  of  course ;  but 
I  could  not  say  to  myself  all  that  I  see,  even  in  Nipponese. 
When  too  many  new  thing  come,  it  is  like  fat  people  trying 
to  squeeze  together  through  a  door,  —  all  get  mashed,  and 
none  come  through." 

Dodge  gazed  at  the  speaker  in  quizzical  admiration.  "Miss 
Onda,  I  long  for  a  phonograph  record.  That  is  a  masterly 
exposition  of  a  profound  psychological  truth  !  " 

Yuki  cast  a  laughing,  half-pathetic  glance  toward  Pierre. 
"  Is  it  very  bad  names  that  he  is  calling  me,  M.  Le  Beau  ?  " 

In  spite  of  Gwendolen's  hyperbolic  boast,  Arizona,  next  day, 
came  near  to  fulfilling  Dodge's  prophecy.  The  world  stretched 
bigger  and  broader,  as  though  here,  instead  of  at  the  Arctic 
poles,  the  "flattening-like-an-orange"  of  our  globe  took  place. 
The  sky,  immeasurably  remote  and  tangibly  arched,  was  a  thin 
crystal  dome  soldered  to  earth  by  the  lead-line  of  the  horizon. 
The  red  sand  was  hot  to  look  at.  The  hills,  though  of  vaster 
proportions,  had  more  of  helplessness  and  degeneracy  in  their 
sprawling  curves.  Yucca  grew  very  closely  now,  marching  up 
and  down  the  slopes  like  fierce  explosive  little  soldiers  with 
bayonets  too  long  for  them.  The  objectionable  prickly  pears 
vanished.  In  their  places  rose  a  stranger  order  of  being,  cacti 
in  tangled  bunches,  as  of  green  serpents,  sometimes  with  the 
licking  red  tongue  of  a  blossom, — hunched  woolly  lambs  of 
growth  on  high,  thin  stilts  of  shaggy  black,  —  huge  green 
melons,  ribbed,  spiked,  and  lazy,  that  seemed  strangely  at  ease 
on  their  burning  couches  of  sand.  Far  off,  against  the  rim  of 
nothingness,  dry,  blue  mountain  shapes  emerged,  mere  tissue 
filaments  of  hue.  And  now,  as  part  of  the  unreal  perspective, 
giant  cacti  rose,  at  first  no  more  than  scratches  and  cross- 
marks  on  a  window-pane,  but  coming  steadily  close.  The  first 
that  flashed,  tall,  stark,  and  tangible,  into  the  very  faces  of 
those  who  watched,  brought  small  exclamations  of  wonder  and 


60  TUP:  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

distaste.  It  passed  instantaneously,  fleeing  backward  into 
nothingness, — a  herald  to  proclaim  the  coming  horde.  In  a 
few  moments,  imagination,  the  sunshine,  and  the  day  became 
mere  mediums  for  the  aggressive  race.  This  scorched  eternity 
was  made  for  them.  Isolated  and  defiant,  their  laws  were  to 
themselves.  It  seemed  a  deliberate  assumption  that  they 
should  mock  reality,  taking  on  the  evil  forms  of  crucifix,  gal- 
lows, skeleton-trees,  and  mile-posts,  where  nothing  but  a  fam- 
ished death  was  to  be  pointed.  The  desert  might  have  been 
a  vast  sea-bottom,  set  with  grim  coral  trees  and  hardened 
polyps. 

"  They  are  a  race  of  evil  spirits,  petrified,"  whispered  Gwen- 
dolen. "  I  feel  their  sinister  association  with  our  human  life. 
See  what  shapes  they  have  chosen ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Yuki  in  return, 'and  caught  Gwendolen's  hand 
as  if  for  comfort.  "You  are  right,  Gwendolen.  I  think  it  is 
a  Buddhist  hell  of  trees." 

"  But  what  could  cause  this  doom  to  befall  an  innocent  tree, 
little  sister  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  evil  karma,"  said  Yuki,  with  wide  yet  shrink- 
ing eyes  upon  the  desert.  "  Perhaps  a  tree  where  a  blameless 
man  was  hanged,  perhaps  the  tree  of  a  martyr's  sacrifice,  — 
perhaps  even,  — "  here  her  voice  fell  to  an  intense  and  dra- 
matic whisper  which  chilled  her  listeners  while  it  stirred 
them,  "perhaps  that  terrible  —  terrible  tree  whereon  our  — 
Saviour —  See  —  see!  now,  over  there  —  there — where  on 
top  of  a  hill  three  great  crosses,  the  middle  one  so  great 
and  black  and  high,  —  is  it  not  Gethsemane  ?"  She  pointed 
with  a  shaking  finger,  unable  to  utter  more. 

"  Come,  Yuki,  do  not  look  —  I  forbid  it ! "  cried  Pierre, 
vehemently.  In  a  moment,  with  a  shudder,  he  added,  "Al- 
brecht  Dtirer  might  have  dreamed  them  in  a  nightmare,  had 
he  killed  his  own  child  and  slept  afterward !  Mother  of  God ! 
I  shall  look  no  more  ! " 

"Nor  I  either,  Pierre,"  cried  Mrs.  Todd,  in  great  relief. 
"  You  are  right  to  correct  Yuki,  —  she  does  have  such  morbid 
fancies.  I  've  heard  her  tell  stories  of  ghosts,  and  incarnations, 
and  those  scary  things  that  would  make  the  flesh  creep  on 
your  bones.  Thank  heaven,  this  day  is  nearly  done !  Ugh ! 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  61 

See  how  the  lengthening  shadows  spread  them  on  the  sand  ! " 
Deliberately  she  pulled  down  the  small  window-shade,  leaned 
back,  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  dear  ?  Are  you  faint  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Todd,  bending  over  her. 

"No,  but  I'm  thirsty.  Eing  for  some  lemonades,  Cy. 
This  dust  has  made  my  throat  as  dry  as  a  lime-burner's 
wig ! " 

Gwendolen  rose.  "Well,  you  can  have  your  lemonades, 
but  I  am  going  to  watch  the  desert  until  night  drives  down 
the  last  black  cactus-peg.  It's  a  thing  to  remember!" 

"  Voila  !  It 's  a  thing  to  forget,"  challenged  Pierre.  "  Nay, 
Yuki-ko,  you  must  not  follow.  Tears  are  on  your  cheeks. 
Stay  here,  and  let  us  talk  of  your  beautiful  land,  forgetting 
the  harsh  ugliness  outside." 

He,  too,  leaned  over,  and  pulled  down  a  shade.  Yuki  made 
a  slight  motion  of  protest,  then  submitted.  "Yes,  let  us  talk 
of  the  ume-flowers,"  she  whispered.  "  They  are  the  first." 

Gwendolen  had  taken  a  seat  to  herself  at  the  far  end  of  the 
open  compartment.  Here,  alone,  she  watched  the  red  sands 
smoulder  into  gray.  For  a  brief  half-hour  the  plant  shadows 
stretched  elastically  into  a  network  of  black.  Suddenly  they 
sank,  as  water,  into  the  sand.  The  upright  stalks  themselves 
began  to  waver  and  lose  shape.  An  instant  more  and  they 
would  have  vanished  like  their  shadows;  but  now,  in  the 
western  sky,  just  where  the  heated  disc  of  copper  had  been 
lowered,  an  aftermath  of  glory  mocked  the  night.  The  cactus 
forms,  against  the  gleam,  acquired  new  menace  and  fresh  ex- 
aggeration. The  brightness  shut  down  quickly,  like  a  box- 
lid,  and  a  universe  of  stars  sprang  out.  Tangled  in  their 
beams,  again  loomed  up  the  cacti. 

"  Fair  maid,  thy  summons  to  the  lemonade ! "  said  Dodge, 
close  behind  her.  "  By  Jove  !  I  almost  committed  a  rhyme  ! 
Fair  maid,  —  lemonade,  —  good  combination,  think  I  '11  write 
it  on  my  cuff." 

At  last  the  girl  turned  from  her  desert. 

Next  day,  to  the  outspoken  satisfaction  of  Mrs.  Todd,  arid- 
ity had  begun  to  retreat  before  civilization.  Even  the  small 
spot  called  Yuraa  seemed,  with  its  station  garden  of  green, 


62  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

a  bit  of  Paradise.  Before  reaching  it,  Dodge  had  carefully 
printed  a  large  notice,  using  the  top  of  one  of  Gwendolen's 
florist  boxes.  This  he  hung  in  full  view  of  all,  at  the  end  of 
the  car. 

"We  approach  YUM  A.  No  puns  aloud.  First  offence,  one 
bottle.  Second  offence,  five  bottles.  Third  offence,  a  whole 
case.  By  Order  of  the  General  Manager." 

The  few  other  travellers  destined  for  the  long  California 
journey  were,  by  this  time,  all  on  friendly  terms.  No  one 
could  have  resisted  the  combined  gayeties  of  Gwendolen, 
Dodge,  and  Pierre  Le  Beau.  Yuki,  thoughtless  responsive, 
was,  as  usual,  an  object  both  of  interest  and  admiration. 

In  lower  California  Mrs.  Todd  averred  that  at  last  she  was 
in  America.  The  trip  up  the  coast,  with  glimpses  of  Narra- 
gansett  surf  springing  up  in  dazzling  whiteness  between  rows 
of  eucalyptus,  pepper,  and  live-oak  trees,  or  over  the  roofs  of 
tiled  adobe  houses,  could  not  turn  her  from  the  belief. 

Near  San  Jose,  cottages  peered  out  from  arching  vines  of 
rose.  Gwendolen  was  distressed  and  surprised  to  find  that 
roses,  here,  did  not  bloom  continuously,  and  always  in  abun- 
dance. "  They  must  show  like  glaciers,  when  they  do  come," 
she  admitted. 

With  San  Francisco,  modern  life,  society,  stress,  began 
anew.  Old  acquaintances  sent  in  cards.  Gwendolen  began 
a  whole  volume  of  new  admirers,  while  Yuki,  with  Pierre  as 
escort,  found  certain  Japanese  friends  and  acquaintances,  one 
the  child  of  an  old  family  servant  of  her  father's  house. 

To  many  thousands  of  voyagers,  San  Francisco  is  but  a 
stopping  place,  a  bird-rest  for  preening.  As  a  fact  it  is  a  city 
which  possesses  an  unusual  share  of  individuality,  of  "  atmos- 
phere," in  the  sense  that  writers  use.  No  where  else  are  to  be 
seen  such  gray  and  wind-swept  streets,  where  houses  stand 
sidewise,  as  if  mounting  flights  of  stairs,  the  parlor  windows 
of  one  house  looking  through  the  chiinney-pots  of  its  neighbor. 
Nowhere  else  are  perched  palaces  like  those  of  San  Francisco, 
or  a  growth,  as  huge  and  strange  in  its  exotic  coloring,  as 
Chinatown.  The  great,  round,  shimmering  bay  and  Golden 
Gate  are  as  a  loom,  and  ships  of  the  harbor,  shuttles  weaving 
together  the  nations  of  East  and  West. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  63 

On  sailing  day,  new  friends  and  new  flowers  gave  the  little 
party  of  the  Todds  "  bon  voyage." 

"If  New  Orleans  is  a  transplanted  Paris,  this  is  a  Tschai- 
kowsky  Symphonic  Orientale  translated  into  terms  of  Ameri- 
can life,"  said  Pierre. 

Slowly  the  city  turned  from  a  city  to  a  patch  of  lichen  on 
a  rock.  Queer  little  ditches,  which  they  knew  for  streets, 
showed  lines  of  perpendicular-crawling  beetles,  which  they 
recognized  to  be  whizzing  electric  cars.  They  watched  it  all 
eagerly,  leaning  far  along  the  stern  rail  of  the  ship. 

Then  the  sea  winds  caught  them,  screaming  a  welcome  into 
shrinking  ears.  The  white,  attendant  sea-gulls  laughed  in 
harsh  appreciation  of  the  antics  of  the  wind.  The  ocean  lifted, 
and  strove,  and  pounded  his  cosmic  greeting ;  and,  —  and,  — 
well  —  there  was  a  good  stewardess  on  board! 


CHAPTER  SIX 

THE  first  days  of  any  voyage  are  admirable  in  proportion 
as  little,  or  nothing,  is  said  of  them.  In  this,  as  in  other 
phases  of  human  intercourse,  delicacy  lies  in  restraint  rather 
than  in  eloquence.  Thus  is  the  bloom  of  society  preserved. 

Mr.  Dodge,  the  self-confident,  the  experienced,  the  ubiqui- 
tous, was  first  to  "show  up."  The  outer  reefs  of  the  Cali- 
fornia coast  do  not  tend  toward  placidity.  Even  Dodge  did 
not  care  to  count  the  hours  since  he  had  begun  to  feel  "  sleepy  " 
and  had  sought  his  cabin. 

Mr.  Todd  next  met  the  sun.  To  be  more  accurate,  it  was  a 
fog,  where  only  a  small  bright  spot,  rubbed  as  in  the  centi-e  of 
a  tarnished  tray,  indicated  our  chief  luminary.  Todd's  cap  wag 
pulled  very  low,  his  ulster  collar  very  high.  His  hands  dis- 
appeared utterly  into  large  pockets.  He  walked  with  the 
jerky  directness  of  a  marionette  toward  the  smoking-room. 

On  the  third  day,  when  the  sun  actually  shone  and  the  pewter 
sky  was  undergoing  a  gradual  transformation  into  blue  enamel, 
Mr.  Todd  was  able  to  sit  on  deck,  —  he  still  remained  notice- 
ably near  the  smoking-room,  —  and  to  enjoy  unprintable  yarns 
from  fellow-smokers.  Missionary  children  began  to  gambol 
around  the  promenade  deck,  and  over  the  feet  of  swathed  and 
flaccid  mortals,  lately  exhumed,  all  with  the  blinking  regard 
of  insects  suddenly  disclosed  beneath  a  garden  stone.  Dodge, 
for  a  wonder,  was  not  in  sight.  Mr.  Todd  had  his  back  toward 
the  main-deck  exit  from  the  salon,  when  one  of  the  group 
about  him  thumped  a  knee,  stared  up,  crying,  "  By  G — ,  look 
at  that ! "  and  called  loudly  upon  his  Maker  to  witness  that 
the  sight  was  fair. 

Out  to  the  deck  had  blown  a  golden  apparition,  —  a  tall,  slim 
girl  with  yellow  hair  crushed  under  a  wide  and  most  unsailor- 
like  hat  of  yellow  sea-poppies.  Her  skirts  and  the  rest  of  her 
were  silken  browns  and  yellows.  She  made  straight  for  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  65 

group,  rustling  like  a  small  eddy  in  a  heap  of  autumn-leaves. 
Todd  turned  a  few  inches.  At  the  expression  on  his  face  a  third 
convive  nudged  the  speaker.  "Oh,  er  —  beg  ten  thousand 
pardons  —  didn't  have  an  idea — "  mumbled  the  crimson 
one. 

"  Neither  did  I,"  said  Todd,  enigmatically,  as  he  rose. 

"  Oh,  dearest  of  dads,"  they  heard  a  fresh  voice  cry.  "  Now 
is  n't  this  a  world  with  the  top  off  ?  I  feel  like  a  bunk  cater- 
pillar turned  into  a  butterfly." 

Pierre  followed  his  three  emancipated  comrades,  immediately 
after  "  tiffin,"  as  the  midday  meal  hereafter  must  be  called. 
He  was,  as  usual,  immaculate  in  attire,  but  bore  an  air  of 
citric  melancholy. 

Next  arose,  in  all  her  might,  Mrs.  Cyrus  Carton  Todd.  In 
her  aggressive  costume  of  starched  pique,  fortified  by  gold 
lorgnettes  and  an  air  carefully  adapted  from  certain  acknowl- 
edged "  grandes  dames  "  of  Washington,  she  took  immediate 
possession  of  the  Captain,  the  best  deck  chair,  and  the  passen- 
ger list.  As  wife  of  a  senator  and  lady  of  the  new  American 
minister  to  Japan,  she  was  accepted  at  once,  without  demur, 
reigning  Empress  of  the  voyage. 

Sportive  infants,  oblivious  of  comfortably  extended  limbs  of 
lesser  mortals,  skirted  those  of  Mrs.  Todd.  Silent  Chinese 
"boys,"  dispensing  beef-tea  and  gruel,  swung  pigtails  aside 
from  her  austere  garments. 

Of  the  party  Yuki  alone  now  abode  in  the  mysterious  seclu- 
sion of  her  stateroom. 

Before  sunset,  on  that  third  afternoon,  the  sea,  to  use  the 
Captain's  expression,  quieted  into  a  "  bloomin'  mill-pond." 
White  birds  fluttered  incessantly  about  the  stern  of  the  ship, 
sometimes  sinking  to  the  waves  for  an  unstable  rest,  or  rising 
to  visit,  in  one  great  silver  swoop,  the  startled  and  delighted 
passenger  deck. 

Pierre  found  a  chair  beside  his  chaperon.  He  moved  it  a 
confidential  three  inches  nearer  before  asking,  "  Will  she  not 
be  able  to  come  up  sometime  before  to-morrow?  This  is 
perfect." 

"  She  has  commissioned  me  to  say  that  she  will  try  to  make 
the  effort  this  evening,  after  our  dinner;  that  is,  if  — " 

5 


66  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

here  she  shook  a  playful  finger  —  "  if  I  will  play  propriety,  and 
any  kindly  disposed  person  could  be  found  to  assist  her 
upstairs." 

"  Ah !  I  '11  go  down  now,  and  take  seat  upon  her  door- 
mat," cried  Pierre,  in  his  excitement. 

"  The  Chinese  coolie  might  spill  chicken  broth  upon  you." 

The  day  waned  slowly.  Passengers  were  beginning  already 
their  postprandial  walks.  Mrs.  Todd  nodded  patronizingly 
to  one  and  then  to  another. 

"Madame,"  began  Pierre,  with  his  caressing  look,  "you 
have  been  almost  as  a  mother  —  a  good,  indulgent  mother — to 
me  in  that  big  land  of  yours.  You  will  continue  to  be  my 
very  good  f rieud  in  Japan,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Why,  silly  boy,  of  course  I  will,"  she  cried.  "Have  not  I 
always  been  your  friend  and  Yuki's,  —  even  to  the  point  of 
what  Cyrus  called  '  entangling  alliances '  ?  " 

"  It  is  because  of  its  preciousness  that  I  want  to  hear  you 
say  it,  dear  Mrs.  Todd.  After  all,  I  am  ignorant  of  Japan,  and 
of  what  social  phantoms  Yuki  and  I  may  have  to  fight.  But 
with  your  championship,  I  am  strong,  invincible !  "  He  gave 
her  fat  hand  just  the  most  delicate  of  pressures.  It  might 
have  been  the  touch  of  a  devoted  son  ;  it  might,  had  Mrs.  Todd 
been  twenty  years  younger,  have  been  —  well,  almost  anything. 
His  dark,  impassioned  eyes,  the  color  of  new-opened  violets, 
hung  on  her  kindly  face. 

If  fault  could  be  found  with  Pierre,  it  would  be  in  excess  of 
beauty.  From  the  old  blood  of  France  he  had  received  re- 
finement, poise,  delicacy,  —  the  throbbing  of  purple  veins  in 
temples  as  satin-smooth  as  young  leaves,  and  thin  nostrils 
that  shivered  at  every  passing  gust  of  emotion.  From  the 
more  barbaric,  vivid  Russian  mother  had  come  depth  of  color- 
ing, the  flash  of  sudden  animation,  deep  blue  in  the  eyes,  and 
gold  in  the  hair.  Yet  with  all  its  fairness  the  face  was  not 
effeminate.  One  could  think  of  it,  without  offence,  in  the 
armor  of  a  young  crusader,  or  even  behind  the  mediaeval  visor 
of  a  robber-baron.  There  might  be  a  hint  of  cruelty  behind 
the  wet  crimson  of  the  perfect  mouth.  To  Yuki  that  face 
was  the  epitome  of  all  earthly  beauty.  Before  it,  the  artist  in 
her  knelt,  in  adoration. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  67 

Shortly  after  twilight  came  the  reverberating  clamor  of 
the  first  dinner-gong.  Mrs.  Todd  and  her  feminine  satellites 
had  agreed  to  "dress."  Mrs.  Todd  had  never  made  acquaint- 
ance with  a  decollete  gown  until  her  entrance  into  Washington, 
not  so  many  years  before.  Now  she  was  wont  to  declare 
loudly  that  she  could  not  really  enjoy  her  evening  meal  in 
covered  shoulders,  —  a  statement  which  always  brought  the 
twinkles  to  Todd's  eyes.  He  openly  loathed  his  "  tombstone 
shirt-front; "  but  Gwendolen,  of  a  later  and  more  favored  gen- 
eration, wore  her  pretty  low-cut  frocks  as  unconsciously  as  a 
flower  wears  its  sheath. 

Pierre  sat  through  the  interminable  courses,  scarcely  know- 
ing what  he  ate  or  to  whom  he  spoke.  His  thoughts  were  all 
with  Yuki.  He  was  to  see  her  again  after  three  endless  days  ! 
The  little  cool,  slim  palm  would  lie,  perhaps,  in  his.  He 
would  hear  her  voice,  as  different  from  these  chattering  table 
women  all  around  him  as  is  the  sound  of  running  water  to 
the  whirr  of  machines.  The  past  ten  days  of  journeying  — 
though  indeed  they  had  not  been  for  a  moment  entirely  alone 
—  left  a  delicious  aroma  of  familiarity,  almost  of  married 
friendship.  What  hours  the  future  was  to  hold  for  them  in 
Japan,  in  Europe,  in  India ! 

Mrs.  Todd's  half-teasing  voice  drew  him  back  from  the  dear 
reverie.  "  Come,  Mister  Le  Beau,  dinner  is  over  at  last.  I 
noticed  that  you  ate  nothing.  The  Captain  has  been  telling 
us  the  most  delightful  jokes.  But  we  must  not  forget  our 
promise  to  Miss  Onda.  Gwendolen,  dear,  will  you  go  on  deck 
and  see  that  a  chair  is  made  ready  for  the  poor  child  ?  "  The 
speaker  had  been  rising  ponderously.  She  turned  again  to 
the  Captain.  "  These  Japanese  are  always  wretched  sailors, 
I  am  told." 

"No  good,  any  of  them!"  corroborated  the  Captain,  with 
emphasis.  "The  sight  of  a  floral  anchor  at  a  landlubber's 
funeral  is  enough  to  make  them  ill." 

"I  wonder  how  it  will  be  with  their  admirals  before  the 
Russian  navy,"  mused  Todd,  with  pensive  eyes  on  a  blue- 
gowned  Chinese  steward. 

"It  wouldn't  matter  either  way,"  sneered  the  Captain. 
"No  fight  is  going  to  come  off !  I've  known  these  Yokohama 


68  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Japs  for  seventeen  years,  Mr.  Todd.  A  bad  lot !  They  are 
just  trying  a  game  of  bluff  borrowed  from  —  no  offence, 
gentlemen  —  from  America."  The  Captain  was  a  Liverpool 
Englishman. 

"  Just  so !  "  grinned  Dodge,  "  the  kind  of  bluff  that  works,  — 
recipe  handed  down  by  one  G.  Washington." 

Pierre  and  Mrs.  Todd  approached  Yuki's  cabin.  She  heard 
them,  and  tottered  to  the  entrance  of  the  tiny  passage.  Her 
face  shone  ghastly  white  above  the  square  black  collar  of  her 
adzuma-coat.  Pierre  instantly  drew  her  arm  within  his  own. 
She  clung  to  him  helplessly  for  an  instant,  then,  with  an 
obvious  effort,  rallied  and  stood  erect. 

"  There,  there,  now,  keep  to  Pierre's  arm,"  encouraged  Mrs. 
Todd,  with  the  smile  of  a  patron  deity.  "  If  you  '11  promise  to 
be  good,  I  '11  go  ahead  and  not  look  around."  She  preceded 
them  slowly  along  the  passage.  Her  decollete  back  loomed, 
in  the  dim  light,  like  the  half  of  a  large,  round  cheese. 

Yuki,  once  safely  on  deck,  tucked  lovingly  among  soft  rugs 
and  pillows  by  Gwendolen,  found  little  indeed  to  say.  Mrs. 
Todd  gave  orders,  before  sweeping  off  to  her  game  of  bridge 
whist,  that  Yuki  must  not  be  teased  into  talking,  but  must  lie 
still,  and  let  the  night  air  and  the  breeze  refresh  her.  Pierre, 
of  course,  remained  by  her  side.  He  cared  little  though  the 
whole  ship  knew  that  he  loved  the  Japanese  girl  and  longed  to 
make  her  his  wife.  Dodge  and  Gwendolen  had  affairs  of  their 
own  to  settle,  and  disappeared  around  the  other  side.  Grad- 
ually the  deck  was  deserted  by  all  but  Pierre  and  his  com- 
panion. He  secured  g,  small  hand  in  his  own.  The  girl  was 
too  languid,  or  perhaps  too  blissful,  to  demur. 

"  Oh,  to  be  seasick  is  most  unpleasantest  thing  of  all !  "  she 
whispered  once,  with  a  short  but  very  genuine  shudder.  "  I 
shall  never  cross  back  on  this  water,  —  never,  never  1  The 
little  bed  downstairs  it  seem  like  a  grave,  and  one  wish  hard 
that  it  was  truly  a  grave." 

After  another  long  silence,  broken  only  by  whispered  sen- 
tences from  Pierre,  she  pointed  to  a  constellation.  "  How  nice 
and  kind  the  stars  are  to  come  out  here  with  us,  so  far  from 
home  !  That  cluster  is  exactly  the  same  one  I  used  to  watch 
from  my  little  room  at  school.  When  I  see  it  in  Japan, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  69 

and  count  the  stars  to  be  sure  all  have  followed,  it  will  be 
stranger  feeling  yet." 

"Darling,"  said  Pierre,  "sometime  we  are  to  carry  that 
little  shining  group  the  whole  way  round  the  world  with  us,  — 
when  you  are  my  wife." 

The  great  ship  rose  softly  and  sank  again,  as  if  breathing. 
The  stars  stared  in,  unwinking.  Yuki's  face  was  deepening 
in  sweet  content.  Every  shiver  of  the  engine,  every  angry 
hurtling  of  the  insulted  waters,  thrust  them  consciously  nearer 
to  Japan. 

Roughening  waves,  toward  the  night  of  the  fourth  day, 
indicated,  according  to  the  Captain,  approach  to  the  Hawaiian 
Islands.  He  added,  "  If  any  one  is  keen  enough  on  it  to  get 
up  at  daybreak,  he  will  see  the  first  outlying  peaks." 

Todd,  in  a  passion  of  romantic  interest  that  was  part  of  the 
whole  marvellous  epic,  climbed  to  the  deck  before  dawn.  The 
stars,  he  fancied,  looked  coldly  upon  him,  as  if  they  resented 
his  presence  at  their  coming  defeat.  He  leaned  far  over, 
watching  waves  that  lapped  the  sides  of  the  ship  in  a  strange 
rhythm.  Under  the  brightening  day  he  stared  across  an  ocean 
apparently  as  eternal  and  infinite  as  space,  that  stretched,  he 
knew,  north  and  south  beyond  him,  twelve  thousand  miles 
of  unbroken  liquid  desert  from  pole  to  pole.  And  yet  through 
the  centuries,  this  perilous  waste  had  been  crossed  from  oasis 
to  island  oasis  by  the  frail  canoes  of  men  ;  —  dark  Polynesian 
painted  savages  with  marvellous  powers  of  carving  and  inlay- 
ing, who  had  left  traces  of  their  coming  from  New  Zealand  to 
Alaska,  and  through  the  Philippines  to  Japan.  He  pictured 
the  advent  of  that  first  dusky  Ulysses  who,  in  feathered  armor 
and  a  Greek  helmet  carved  from  a  cinnamon-tree,  had  here, 
ages  before,  terminated  his  thousand-mile  wanderings  from  a 
forgotten  South.  All  this  had  now  become  a  new  world  for 
Todd's  own  light-haired  Saxon  race  to  fall  heir  to,  stepping- 
stones  in  its  inevitable  stride  to  the  teeming  coasts  of  Asia. 

Yuki,  too,  in  such  excitement  that  she  could  barely  stop  to 
dress,  had  been  staring  out  of  the  port-hole  of  her  stateroom 
since  an  early  hour.  If  one  of  the  great  birds  swooping  inces- 
santly along  the  sides  of  the  ship  had  paused  to  look,  he 
would  have  seen  a  small  face,  white  as  himself,  fitted  into  the 


70  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

round  brass  frame.  She  was  there  before  dawn  had  quickened 
under  the  sea.  The  mystery  and  the  first  unspeakable  shiver 
of  a  newly  created  day  had  been  hers.  "'And  God  moved 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters,' "  whispered  reverent  Oriental 
lips.  She  saw  the  first  dark  triangle  of  land  glide  toward 
her  through  the  thinning  darkness,  —  the  shimmer  of  rose 
and  green  on  half-veiled  slopes,  the  gradual  lighting  up  of 
tapering  peaks,  —  and  then,  the  full  orchestration  of  the 
risen  sun. 

She  reached  the  deck  to  find  not  only  Mr.  Todd,  but  the 
greater  number  of  the  passengers,  assembled  to  watch  the 
gorgeous  spectacle  from  the  entrance  of  Honolulu  Bay.  Night 
had  rolled  up  from  the  sleepy  town,  and  surged  in  great  sails 
of  pearl-tinted  cloud  up  dark  blue-green  gullies  of  the  hills. 
Bed  scars  of  volcanic  slopes  burned  through  the  morning, 
whole  peaks  seemed  incandescent,  and  terraced  gardens,  cleared 
from  lower  mists,  stood  outlined  in  reflected  orange  light. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  iridescent  pageant  vanished. 
Down  on  the  shore,  rude  wharves  and  freight-sheds  and  cheap, 
new-painted  boat-houses  stared  out  impertinently.  Back  of 
the  harbor  front  the  little  town  nestled  prettily  enough  in  its 
setting  of  tropic  greens,  and  half-way  up  the  volcanic  cliffs 
patches  of  tilled  fields  or  clumps  of  forest-trees  relieved  the 
sandy  wastes.  At  intervals  a  tall  white  house  among  its  palms 
shone  out  like  a  child's  block,  half  imbedded  in  moss. 

As  the  ship  touched  the  dock,  and  the  company  broke  up 
to  watch  the  native  boys  diving  for  coppers,  Mrs.  Todd 
gathered  her  clan  together  for  a  holiday  on  shore.  Yuki  had 
decided  to  wear  a  white  American  gown.  Gwendolen  also 
was  in  white,  like  a  great  lily.  Dodge  showed  up  in  spotless 
duck  and  a  pith  helmet ;  Pierre  wore  immaculate  flannels ; 
while  Mrs.  Todd,  in  the  stiffest  of  skirts,  the  thinnest  of 
lawn  waists,  and  a  white  linen  Alpine  hat  a  trifle  too  small, 
looked  unfortunately  like  a  perfume  bottle  with  a  white 
leather  top. 

They  walked  in  radiant  single-file  down  the  gangway,  the 
faces  of  all  three  women  changing  to  sudden  blankness  at  the 
appalling  rigidity  of  earth,  after  recent  days  on  a  swaying 
deck.  "I — I  —  don't  believe  I  can  walk  at  all,  just  yet," 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  71 

said  Mrs.  Todd,  and  reached  out  for  her  natural  protector. 
In  an  instant  Dodge  had  whistled  up  two  cabriolets  driven  by 
sleepy-eyed  Kanakas  in  California  hats.  At  the  market,  a 
low  Spanish-looking  edifice  with  no  walls,  Mrs.  Todd  insisted 
upon  getting  out.  Some  one  on  the  ship  had  told  her  to  be 
sure  to  see  the  market ;  and  this  the  conscientious  traveller 
intended  to  do,  though  the  very  peaks  above  them  seemed  to 
rock  and  leap  with  subconscious  friskiness.  Here  thronged  a 
mingled  race,  both  buyers  and  sellers, — English,  Japanese, 
Chinese,  Hawaiians,  and  Yankees.  All  the  vegetable  stands 
were  owned  by  Chinese,  all  the  fruit  by  Kanakas.  Dodge  in- 
sisted on  the  fact  as  eloquent  of  racial  tendencies.  In  this 
magic  climate  the  growth  of  vegetables  is  accompanied  by  an 
even  more  fervid  growth  of  weeds,  and  so  requires  patient 
vigilance.  Fruit,  on  the  other  hand,  cultivates  itself.  "  All  the 
lordly  Hawaiian  has  to  do,"  said  Dodge,  "  is  to  stand  or  sit  un- 
der the  tree,  and  let  it  fall  into  his  lap."  Gwendolen  took  the 
value  from  this  last  remark  by  indicating  a  heap  of  horny 
"jackfruit," —  a  thing  the  shape  and  size  of  a  watermelon, 
which  grows  out  of  the  trunk,  apparently,  of  live  oaks,  and 
asking,  scornfully,  how  much  Kanaka  would  be  left  when 
one  of  those  had  fallen. 

The  fish  dealers'  department  gleamed  with  iridescent  color. 
Shrimps  and  crabs  seemed  fashioned  in  Favrille  glass.  Lob- 
sters wore  polka-clots  of  blue.  None  of  these  Crustacea  had 
claws,  but  whether  deprived  of  them  by  man  or  nature  was 
never  ascertained. 

As  they  drove  up  the  narrow  avenues,  the  unique  mixture  of 
the  population  became  more  apparent.  Chinese  evidently 
formed  the  inferior  caste  of  laborer,  content  with  a  daily  wage. 
Cleverer  Japanese  bustled  about  newly  opened  shops  of  foreign 
wares,  or  hung  out  professional  signs  of  doctor,  lawyer,  or 
notary  public.  The  Yankee  strolled  about  with  a  half-disdain- 
ful glance ;  but  the  lordliest  was  not  so  proud  as  the  ragged 
sons  of  Kamehameha,  who,  preempting  shady  nooks  in  door- 
ways, stared  disapprovingly  on  the  passer-by.  In  the  grounds 
of  the  former  "palace,"  members  of  a  present  legislature  lolled 
on  the  green,  and  nibbled  peanuts.  Pert  Kanaka  girls,  in  New- 
York  shirt-waists  and  automobile  veils,  minced  by  the  side  of 


72  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

fat  mamas  in  Mother  Hubbard  gowns,  generally  of  red,  with 
huge  ruffles  about  the  yoke. 

"  Stop,  Cy !  Tell  the  man  to  stop.  There  's  a  druggist ! 
I  have  several  things  to  get !  " 

"And  look!  next  to  it  a  book-store  advertising  the  latest 
novels,"  supplemented  Gwendolen.  "  Does  n't  that  seem  a 
joke  ?  We  must  get  some.  I  see  souvenirs,  and  photographs, 
and—" 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  we  'd  better  do.  You  women-folks  get 
out  and  shop.  Le  Beau  will  stick  to  Yuki,  I  guess;  while 
Dodge  and  I  take  this  carriage  around  to  the  post-office,  — 
I've  heard  there  was  one,  — and  try  to  find  out  the  latest 
news  about  the  war,"  cried  Mr.  Todd. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  were  back,  breathless.  "  War 's 
coming,  and  it 's  coming  soon ! "  panted  the  senator. 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  ticket.  Japan  has  called,  and  Russia  must 
show  her  hand  or  crawfish,"  supplemented  Dodge.  . 

"But  not  really,  really  —  yet  begun?"  whispered  Yuki,  who 
had  turned  very  pale. 

"  What  does  the  young  man  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Todd,  anx- 
iously, of  her  spouse.  "  I  can't  believe  in  irresponsible  war 
rumors.  I  sha'n't  believe  them.  Why,  only  two  days  before 
we  left  Washington,  Prince  Breakitoff  assured  me  solemnly 
that  the  difficulty  would  never  be  allowed  to  reach  the  point  of 
war." 

Mr.  Todd  winked  toward  his  secretary.  "Well,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "Prince  Breakitoff  ought  to  know  more  about  the 
facts  of  the  case  than  a  Hawaiian  newspaper." 

"  He  certainly  ought  to,"  said  Dodge,  ambiguously. 
"  War !  Who  dares  to  hint  of  war  ?  "  cried  Pierre.  "  Look 
at  this  sky  above  us,  and  that  tangle  of  sun  and  shower  drag- 
ging rainbow  echoes  across  a  peacock-colored  bay !  Who 
could  be  found  to  fight  on  such  an  earth  ?  Do  you  not  say  so, 
too,  my  Yuki  ?  " 

Yuki  started  slightly,  and  hesitated,  as  if  to  form  her  words. 
Before  she  could  speak,  Dodge  had  interrupted :  "  As  long  as 
we  are  so  close,  would  you-all  mind  walking  one  more  block 
on  foot  ?  The  prettiest  sight  in  the  town  is  just  to  the  left  of 
that  jutting  brick  wall  down  there."  He  pointed.  Mrs.  Todd 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  73 

was  off.  Yuki  slipped  in  close  to  Gwendolen,  and  clung  to  her 
friend's  arm.  She  did  not  want  to  think,  just  now,  of  war. 
Past  new  American  shops  they  went,  ice-cream  "parlors," 
dry-goods  displays  of  underwear,  —  "  marked  down  "  sales,  of 
course,  —  and  windows  of  ready-made  gowns  on  insipid  waxen 
dummies.  Dodge  had  taken  a  few  feet  in  advance.  He  now 
turned  sharply,  facing  into  a  narrow  street,  one  of  the  old 
native  thoroughfares,  bordered  by  walls  of  brick  and  stone 
where  moss  spread  and  dampness  oozed.  On  an  absurdly 
narrow  pavement  squatted  a  row  of  fat  and  shapeless  beings, 
presumably  women,  half  buried  in  wreaths  and  coils  of  strange 
flowers. 

"  Behold  the  far-famed  lei  sellers  of  Hawaii ! "  announced 
Dodge,  with  an  histrionic  gesture. 

"  I  see  no  hens,"  said  Mrs.  Todd,  through  raised  lorgnettes. 

"  These  are  a  different  brand  of  lei,"  explained  Dodge,  with- 
out a  smile;  "flower-wreaths  that  are  to  the  hat  of  the 
Hawaiian  dandy  what  an  orchid  or  a  gardenia  is  to  the  button- 
hole of  a  Fifth  Avenue  sport." 

The  sellers  had  sprung  instantly  into  kneeling  postures,  all 
as  if  pulled  by  a  single  wire.  Brown  arms  went  forth,  like 
those  of  crabs,  flower  hung.  "  Lei,  lei,  Honolulu  lei !  Pret- 
tie  flower !  Prettie  ladees  !  Dollar  —  Fufty  cents !  Here, 
ladee,  prettie  lei,  twunty-fi'  cents  !  " 

"Offer  a  quarter  for  three,  and  see  them  hustle,"  said 
Dodge. 

"  Oh,  what  visions  of  beauty ! "  breathed  Gwendolen,  and 
flung  down  silver  coin  at  random.  "  See,  ropes  of  carnations  ! 
Pink  oleanders  threaded  into  regular  cables !  And  oh,  the 
lovely  yellow  things,  —  my  color,  —  golden  acacias,  I  believe. 
I  shall  loop  myself  like  an  East  Indian  idol  in  these  fragrant 
necklaces.  And  what  are  those  purple  things,  and  those  ? 
Why,  why,  I  don't  know  the  others  at  all.  I  thought  I  was 
friends  with  every  flower.  They  smell  like  heaven ! " 

"Frangipani,  ylang-ylang,  stephanotis,  plumaria,  acacia," 
rattled  Dodge,  in  the  tone  and  manner  of  a  professional  guide. 

"  What  a  delightful  courier  you  would  make,  Mr.  Dodge  ! " 
cried  saucy  Gwendolen.  "  I  think  I  '11  bespeak  your  services, 
now,  for  my  wedding  journey." 


74  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"  I  'm  jolly  well  apt  to  be  along  on  that  particular  trip,  you 
know,"  retorted  the  young  man,  with  such  cool  assurance  that 
all  laughed  —  except  Mrs.  Todd.  That  good  lady  had  begun 
to  view,  with  some  apprehension,  the  over-confident  tactics 
of  the  attache.  Gwendolen,  after  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to 
stare  him  "down,"  bent  flushed  cheeks  and  laughing  eyes  to 
the  flowers.  "  We  must  all  wear  lei,  of  course,"  she  cried,  a 
trifle  unsteadily.  "  It 's  positively  the  only  thing  to  do  on 
such  a  day !  Yuki,  pink  carnations  will  be  ravishing  on 
your  little  white  sailor-hat,  and  also,  by  a  happy  coincidence, 
on  Pierre's  new  Panama.  Dad,  you  and  mother  must  have 
this  divine  stephanotis,  mixed  with  a  little  smilax,  for  a  green 
old  age.  Just  think  of  buying  strung  stephanotis  by  the 
yard  !  And,  Mr.  Dodge,  —  last  and  not  least,  Mr.  T.  Caraway 
Dodge  !  — "  Mockingly  she  caught  up  a  string  of  magenta- 
colored  "bachelor  buttons,"  and  would  have  offered  them 
with  a  curtsey ;  but  already  Dodge  had  carefully  wound  his 
helmet  in  coils  of  acacia  flowers  until  it  had  become,  in  shape 
and  size,  an  old-fashioned  beehive  made  of  gold. 

This  time  she  presented  her  back  squarely.  The  others 
withheld  laughter  until  they  should  have  read  the  expression 
on  the  chaperon's  face.  But  she,  oblivious  apparently  of  this 
new  bit  of  daring,  had  lorgnettes  at  her  eyes,  and  was  study- 
ing carefully  a  closely  written  list, — a  composite  of  sugges- 
tions, made  up  for  her  by  admiring  ship  friends.  "Punch 
Bowl  Crater,  The  Bishop  Museum,  Banana  Plantations, 
Waki-ki  Beach,  —  note  colors  on  the  shoals,  —  House  where 
K.  L.  Stevenson  resided,"  she  was  murmuring,  as  though  to 
fix  each  in  her  memory.  Suddenly  she  looked  up.  "  Cyrus, 
the  carriages  !  I  doubt  whether  we  can  get  them  all  in,  but 
I  intend  to  do  my  best." 

"  Mother  !  "  began  Gwendolen,  in  a  note  of  protest.  Yuki 
was  smiling,  aud  Pierre  also.  As  long  as  they  were  together, 
nothing  else  mattered.  The  countenance  of  Dodge,  however, 
had  an  acrobatic  fall  from  elation  to  horrified  disappointment. 
At  sight  of  this,  Gwendolen  actually  glittered  mischief. 

"Certainly,  mother  dear,"  she  hastened  to  answer.  "Let 
us  take  everything  in,  —  even  a  little  more,  if  possible.  We 
all  need  our  minds  improved, — aud  some  of  us  our  mail- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  75 

ners ! "  Dodge,  darting  a  look  into  her  face,  found  only 
trustful  innocence.  The  carriages  had  arrived.  With  great 
ostentation  he  assisted  Mrs.  Todd  into  her  place.  "  I  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  supply  one  or  two  interesting  spots  not  down 
on  that  list,"  he  suggested,  with  a  tentative  look  at  the 
empty  cushion  beside  her.  "  Glaus  Spreckels'  house,  the  In- 
firmary, the  Honolulu  University  with  miles  of  hedges  made 
up  of  volcanic  stone  overgrown  with  night-blooming  cereus 
—  you  mustn't  miss  that!"  Dodge's  eyes  and  his  smile 
were  frankness  embalmed  and  irradiated.  Mrs.  Todd  perforce 
smiled  in  reply.  "Jump  in,"  she  said  cordially.  "You're 
quite  a  treasure  in  travelling,  Mr.  Dodge." 

Gwendolen  meekly  took  a  rear  seat  by  her  father.  As  she 
pressed  lovingly  against  him,  sending  upward  the  tiniest  little 
teased  smile  of  discomfiture,  his  face  broke  into  merry 
wrinkles.  "  I  think  you  've  found  your  match  this  time, 
little  girl,"  he  whispered. 

"  You  just  wait,"  nodded  the  oracular  Gwendolen. 

It  is  a  memorable  experience,  analogous  to  nothing  else 
in  the  world,  that  landing,  for  one  iridescent  day,  in  the 
Pacific's  mid-ocean,  throwing  one's  fancies  and  one's  heart 
into  strange  tropic  scenes,  and  then  returning  at  nightfall, 
like  tired,  happy  children,  to  the  great  old  mother-nursery  of 
the  ship. 

By  the  next  morning,  not  even  a  cloud  on  that  horizon  from 
which  we  are  fleeing  betrays  the  hiding-place  of  land.  At 
once  the  island  takes  proper  place  as  a  vision,  a  mirage  of 
the  imagination,  where  souls  of  certain  privileged  beings 
have  met,  and  are  henceforth  bound  in  a  unity  of  mystic  com- 
radeship. After  such  a  day,  Pacific  passengers  turn  to  one 
another  with  kindlier  smiles,  the  whole  ship  changes  into  one 
heaving  picnic  party,  old  Time  himself  joins  in  the  holiday, 
and  personal  dislikes,  brought  on  board,  are  flung  to  the  waves. 
That  most  of  these  animosities,  like  the  Biblical  bread,  re- 
turn to  the  owners  after  not  so  many  days,  need  not  affect 
present  hilarity. 

As  may  be  supposed,  Gwendolen  and  her  closest  attendant, 
Dodge,  were  small  whirling  centres  in  the  round  of  gay  diver- 


76  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

sions.  The  conventional  deck-games  were  started,  and  a  ter- 
minating three  days  of  competitive  skill,  with  prizes  bought 
at  Honolulu  and  marked  with  the  name  of  the  ship  and  date 
of  voyage,  duly  announced.  Eevelry  was  to  culminate  in  a 
grand  "  fancy  dress  ball,"  the  night  before  landing,  a  prize 
being  given  to  the  costumer  who  showed  most  skill  in  fash- 
ioning his  or  her  attire  from  things  procurable  on  board  ship, 
and  in  carrying  out  the  character  assumed.  In  order  to 
waste  no  more  time  upon  this  function,  it  may  be  stated  that 
Mr.  T.  Caraway  Dodge  as  "  Dandy  Jim,"  — with  painted  purple 
rings  on  a  dress  shirt  and  a  "  claw-hammer "  coat  a  size  too 
small,  ebony  countenance,  lips  like  two  flaming  sausages  caught 
loosely  at  the  ends,  and  a  wig  fashioned  from  the  hair  of  his 
bunk  mattress,  —  sang  and  cake-walked  himself  straight  to 
the  prize,  while  defeated  contestants  rent  night  with  applause 
and  acclamation. 

From  the  smoking-room  an  incessant  clinking,  as  of  fairy 
castanets,  fretted  the  ears  of  feminine  curiosity.  Mr.  Todd 
explained  that  it  was  merely  the  sound  of  checkers  and  chess- 
men rattling  to  the  shiver  of  the  ship's  screw. 

The  sun  came  up  each  morning,  small  and  round,  like  a 
mandarin  orange ;  expanded  himself  into  a  blinding  deity ;  and 
at  evening  went  down  again,  a  blood-red  orange,  into  the  sea. 
The  days  he  brought  were  long  and  golden,  but  not  long  enough 
for  all  the  practising  of  bull-board,  quoits,  shuffle-board,  and 
deck  tennis.  Each  morning,  after  breakfast,  certain  acrobatic 
performances,  free  of  charge,  were  held.  Bag-punching  was 
the  children's  favorite.  One  could  count  on  an  audience 
there,  of  upturned  faces,  wide-eyed  and  solemn  with  admira- 
tion. Some  of  the  passengers  saw  fit  to  attach  pedometers, 
and  walk  an  incredible  number  of  miles  each  day. 

In  the  evening,  Mrs.  Todd  and  bridge  whist  reigned  su- 
preme. The  Captain  proved  to  be  a  player ;  so,  to  his  present 
anguish,  was  Dodge.  Gwendolen  took  an  elfish  delight  in 
luring  this  young  man  to  a  table,  under  pretence  of  desiring  to 
be  his  partner,  and  then,  at  the  last  moment,  slipping  in  a 
foreordained  substitute;  after  which  she  sped  off,  carolling, 
to  a  moonlit  deck.  Once  there,  the  fuming  and  impotent 
Dodge  recognized  only  too  clearly  what  she  would  do.  At 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  77 

least  a  dozen  new  acquaintances  of  the  other  sex  had  been 
made  thus  far  by  Gwendolen.  It  was  her  wont  to  dispense 
Emersonian  philosophy  and  delicately  portioned  encourage- 
ment to  those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  secure  her  com- 
panionship. There  was  a  young  Dutch  merchant  on  his  way 
to  coffee  plantations  in  Java,  very  blond  and  fierce  as  to  mus- 
tachios,  and  mild  in  the  eyes.  A  Chicago  representative,  oil 
his  way  to  sell  to  Eastern  potentates  his  particular  make  of 
automobile,  had  already  needed,  to  quote  Gwendolen's  own 
words,  "a  slight  slackening  of  speed." 

An  English  "  leftenant "  returning  to  South  Africa,  carried 
with  him  his  own  marvellous  outfit  for  the  making  of  after- 
noon tea,  backed  by  a  mammoth  English  plum-cake  in  a  tin 
box.  He  was  one  to  be  propitiated,  especially  toward  eight 
bells  on  an  afternoon. 

An  Austrian  viscount  posed  as  the  slayer  of  jungle  beasts. 
"Beeg  gam,"  he  called  them.  He  doted  upon  seeing  this 
timid  and  shrinking  maid  cower  beneath  the  bloody  wonder  of 
his  yarns.  No  one  before  had  inspired  such  thrilling  de- 
nouements as  Mees  Todd.  He  recognized  her  at  once  for  his 
affinity,  and  on  the  night  before  landing  condescended  to  tell 
her  so.  The  shock  was  rude,  but  he  deserved  what  he  got. 

Pierre  and  Yuki  joined  in  these  several  amusements  and 
occupations  during  the  morning  and  afternoon  hours,  both 
being  much  petted  and  flattered  by  the  ladies  of  the  ship,  as 
beau  ideals  of  young  lovers.  In  the  evenings,  on  the  balmy 
deck,  they  were  left  to  themselves.  Wonderful  talks  grew 
between  them,  —  whispers,  sometimes,  that  the  jealous  wind 
tore  from  their  lips  before  the  last  word  came.  Yuki  had  not 
won  back  the  half-troth  given,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
Pierre  gained  more. 

Often  their  talk  was  of  impersonal  things.  The  young  man 
delighted  to  draw  from  Yuki  quaint  phrases  of  comment,  and 
hints  of  the  Oriental  imagery  with  which  her  fancy  thrilled. 
She  told  him  the  story  of  the  stars,  Vega  and  Aquilla,  called  in 
her  land  the  Herd-Boy  and  the  Weaver-Girl ;  how,  for  some 
fault,  committed  before  this  little  earth  was  made,  they  could 
cross  the  milky  stream  of  Heaven,  and  meet,  but  one  night  in 
a  year. 


78  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

When  he  pointed  to  a  flock  of  flying  fish  skimming  in  a  blue 
and  silver  phantasy  above  a  turquoise  floor,  she  called  them 
the  souls  of  birds  that  had  flown  too  far  from  land,  and  been 
drowned  at  sea. 

Within  a  few  days  of  landing,  a  certain  change,  perceptible, 
it  may  be,  only  to  the  most  sensitive,  crept  into  the  elements 
of  air  and  water,  and  tinged  even  the  up-piling  clouds.  Yuki 
stared  now,  for  long  moments,  in  silence,  toward  that  hidden 
bank  of  the  West.  Pierre  felt  a  change  in  her ;  but  when  he 
questioned,  she  laughed  a  little  nervously,  and  said  it  was 
merely  the  outer  edge  of  Nippon's  "  aura."  Undoubtedly  she 
was  restless,  a  little  moody,  a  trifle  excited,  and  touched,  at 
times,  with  brooding  thoughts.  She  dreaded  the  opening  with 
Pierre  of  topics  which,  all  along,  she  had  tried  to  avoid.  Yet 
now,  so  close  to  home,  she  must  make  stronger  efforts  to 
free  herself. 

One  afternoon  at  sundown,  when  the  great  reverberating 
"  dressing  gong "  had  sent  most  of  the  ladies  below-stairs, 
Pierre,  hurrying  up  to  Yuki,  where,  for  a  half-hour  past  she 
had  sat  alone  in  a  far  corner  of  the  deck  looking  outward, 
leaned  and  said: 

"This  promises  to  be  the  most  wonderful  sunset  of  all.  It 
may  be  our  last.  The  Captain  has  just  told  me  that,  with 
good  luck,  we  sight  land  to-morrow.  Do  you  dare  come  out 
with  me  to  the  very  prow  of  the  ship  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  dares,"  smiled  Yuki,  rising  instantly.  "  I  have 
wished  often  to  go  to  that  small,  lonely  point  of  ship."  As 
they  started,  he  caught  up  a  discarded  wrap.  "  The  wind  is 
fresher  there,"  he  said. 

In  a  few  moments  she  remarked,  in  a  slightly  embarrassed 
tone,  "That  will  be  a  very  good  place  to  say  —  something." 

Pierre  made  no  repty.  He  also  had  been  thinking  of  it  as 
an  excellent  place  in  which  to  say  —  something. 

Together,  in  silence,  they  made  way  over  the  aerial  bridge 
that  connects  the  triangular  front  deck  with  the  main  one ; 
moving  over  the  heads  of  steerage  passengers,  principally 
Chinese,  who  squatted  in  the  sunken  square  to  breathe  in  what 
they  could  of  the  cool,  evening  breeze.  The  sun  was  setting, 
—  "a  polished  copper  gong  like  that  ship  one  which  makes 


79 

much  noise,"  said  Yuki.  It  sank,  clear-cut  and  very  round, 
just  at  that  point  of  the  horizon  where  Nippon  might  be 
thought  to  lie. 

Pierre  placed  the  girl  in  the  small  angle  at  the  peak.  An 
arm  was  stretched  behind  her,  and  a  hand  clung  to  the  rail, 
to  protect  them  both.  He  leaned  forward  until  his  cheek 
almost  pressed  against  her  own.  The  soft  incessant  rush  of 
wind  blew  her  heavy  hair  back  from  a  forehead  spiritually 
pure  and  white.  Her  long,  delicately  modelled  nose  and 
small  curved  chin  made  a  cameo  against  the  blue-gray  stone 
of  dusk.  Pierre,  watching  her  intently,  saw  the  last  red  ray 
of  the  sun  quiver  on  her  lips.  The  little  hands  were  raised, 
as  if  unconsciously,  and  clapped  thrice,  very  softly. 

"  Are  you  praying  to  your  sun-god,  little  Christian  Yuki  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Yuki,  quickly.  "It  is  not  prayer  as 
we  Christians  call  praying ;  it  is  only  just  our  Japanese  way 
of  thanking  Sun  San  for  his  great  beauty,  and  the  much  good 
he  does  flowers,  and  people,  and  everything.  In  Japan  we 
often  thanks  things  just  for  being  beautiful."  She  smiled 
up  confidingly  into  his  face.  Her  little  hands,  now  lowered, 
flecked  the  rail  like  bits  of  white  foam. 

"Then  I  should  pray  to  you,  my  darling,  for  in  all  this 
world  never  was  anything  more  beautiful." 

She  made  no  effort  to  answer  this,  not  even  by  her  usual 
small,  deprecating  smile  and  shake  of  the  head.  The  necessity 
of  what  she  was  to  say,  blotted  from  those  first  moments  by 
visual  beauty,  now  came  heavily  back  to  her.  She  steadied 
herself,  turning  slightly  to  see  his  face. 

"  Pierre,  trust  me  a  little  more.  Give  back  that  promise, 
—  the  promise  you  won  from  my  weakness.  It  holds  me  from 
my  path  like  a  thorn.  Our  cause  will  be  better  without  it." 

Pierre  started,  and  looked  at  the  girl  incredulously.  "  Have 
you  let  me  lead  you  here  deliberately  to  ask  me  such  a 
thing  ?  " 

"Do  not  admit  anger  to  your  thought,  dear  Pierre,"  she 
pleaded.  "  I  must  have  said  some  time.  I  should  have  said 
to  you  long  before  this  ;  but  we  have  been  so  —  happy." 

"Yes,"  said  Pierre,  doggedly.  "We  have  been  happy; 
and  I  intend  that  we  shall  be  happier  still.  That  promise 


80  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

is  all  I  have  to  hold  you  by.  I  'd  draw  it  tighter  if  I 
could." 

"  You  will  not  understand,  —  you  will  not  try  to  understand 
me,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  despairing  voice.  "  Such  promise  given 
is  disrespect  to  my  parents,  particularly  to  my  father.  If  you 
do  not  release,  I  must  tell  to  him,  of  course.  It  will  be  bad 
for  you  and  me.  Can  you  not  trust  me  ?  Oh,  Pierre,  for 
love's  sake,  release  —  !  " 

"  Release  you  !  "  he  interrupted  wildly.  "  This  is  my  answer. 
It  is  for  love's  sake  that  I  hold  you,  and  will  hold."  He  seized 
her  in  his  arms,  and  held  her  with  cruel  strength.  The  night 
had  come  in  fast.  He  did  not  care  that  the  watchman  by  the 
tall,  straight  mast  might  see  them.  No  one  could  hear  the 
wind-driven,  hurrying  words.  "  This  is  my  answer.  I  hold 
thus  all  you  have  given,  —  and  more.  You  are  sincere,  I 
believe,  but  mistaken.  A  weak  yielding  on  my  part  would 
make  your  parents,  and  perhaps  yourself,  despise  me.  I  keep 
what  I  have,  I  say,  and  I  demand  still  more.  You  must  be 
true  to  me,  no  matter  what  occurs ! " 

"Pierre,  Pierre,  you  trample  on  your  own  hope,  though  you 
will  not  see  it !  To  release  me  generously  is  your  own  best 
way ! " 

"  You  are  the  self-deceived,"  cried  Pierre.  "  Pledge  your- 
self irrevocably.  Then  only  are  we  strong." 

In  the  western  sky  an  orange  strip  of  day  remained.  A 
single  bird,  black  against  the  glow,  flew  screaming  across  it, 
beating  curved  wings  in  the  wind.  "  He  will  not  see  at  all," 
whispered  Yuki,  as  if  to  the  bird. 

"  Oh,  dearest,  you  cannot  know  in  your  calm,  innocent 
heart  the  scourge  of  a  love  like  mine  !  I  hunger  for  you,  I 
thirst!  Sobbing,  I  dream  of  you,  and  I  wake  to  new  tears 
that  you  are  still  so  far  away.  In  pity,  in  mere  mercy  to 
human  suffering,  say  that  no  other  man  shall  marry  you.  Say 
this  much  at  least,  that  if  prejudice  and  war  hold  us  apart 
awhile,  you  will  be  true  to  me  until  we  can  seek  some  new 
road  to  happiness !  " 

"Do  I  not  know,  —  do  I  not  know  ?  "  she  shivered,  in  answer 
to  the  first  part  of  his  speech.  "  Every  day  my  heart  is  torn 
to  small  pieces,  all  of  different  size  and  shape.  I  do  not 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  81 

understand  how  in  sleep  they  come  together  once  more.  You 
are  not  lonely  in  that  human  suffering." 

"  Oh,  you  love  me  !  "  cried  the  man.  "  And  on  this  voyage 
you  love  me  as  you  had  not  done  before !  Is  it  not  true  ?  " 

"It  is  true,"  sobbed  Yuki. 

"  Mine  is  not  love,"  said  Pierre,  again  holding  her  fast ; 

"it  is  hell,  —  a  raging  hell  of  ecstasies  !     Oh,  kiss  me,  Yuki; 

give  me  your  lips  before  I  die  of  joy  !     Now  swear,  — swear, 

—  that  no  word  but  my  own,  — no  circumstance  but  death, 

can  loose  you  from  me  !  " 

"You  torture  like  the  old  monks,"  she  panted.  "Oh,  do 
not  make  me  say  ! " 

"  I  command  you,  Yuki,"  he  persisted,  feeling  new  strength 
as  she  faltered.  "  It  is  my  right.  We  belong  to  each  other. 
Promise,  —  promise,  —  promise,  —  nothing  but  death  or  my 
word  to  loose  you ! "  He  kissed  her  again  and  again,  like  a 
madman,  pressing  his  lips  down  upon  hers,  catching  her  hands 
to  kiss,  devouring  her  eyes,  cheeks,  forehead,  hair ;  while 
the  girl,  beaten  down  by  the  whirlwind,  made  no  effort  to 
resist. 

Pierre  took  the  long  white  ivory  pin  from  her  hair,  and 
split  it,  thrusting  the  smaller  portion  into  his  coat,  and  re- 
turning that,  with  the  ornament  still  attached,  to  her  hair. 

"  I  take  this  pledge,  Yuki,"  he  cried.  "You  have  told  me 
that  it  binds  to  the  death  a  Japanese  lover.  We  are  bound. 
I  hold  you  by  a  tangible  bond.  The  next  shall  be  a  small, 
bright  circle  on  this  little  hand.  Give  me  the  promise,  Yuki, 
—  no  need  to  struggle  now.  Give  it  me  !  " 

"  Kwannon  protect  me,"  gasped  the  girl ;  "  I  promise  ! " 

A  sudden  vacuum  fell.  Pierre's  breath  was  hard  to  re- 
capture. He  thought  that  Yuki  had  fainted,  for  her  trembling 
had  stopped.  He  shook  one  shoulder  and  bent  down  to  gaze 
into  her  set,  white  face.  Her  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  held 
two  stars.  She  moved  her  lips  now,  and  leaned  far  out- 
ward, gazing  intently,  as  if  watching  the  flight  of  an  unseen 
thing. 

"  Yuki,  Yuki,  what  is  it,  —  what  do  you  see?  "  he  cried,  in 
terror. 

"  My  soul !  I  think  a  small  soul  fled ! "  All  at  once  she 

6 


82  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

collapsed  into  unconsciousness.  As  Pierre  lifted  her,  he 
shook  springing  tears  away,  and  bit  his  quivering  lips  as  he 
muttered,  —  "I  feel  as  if  I  tortured  a  child ;  but  she  does 
not  realize  our  perils.  Her  fast  promise  is  our  only  hope. 
Thank  God  that  I  could  win  it  1"  - 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

THE  nearness  of  land  as  yet  invisible  gave  to  the  ship  next 
morning  that  access  of  animation  noted  in  the  approach  to 
Hawaii,  and  in  the  day-distant  interval  from  the  Golden 
Gate. 

Most  of  the  passengers,  scorning  to  notice  a  few  rough 
waves,  buzzed  or  moved  in  groups  about  the  dock.  Games 
were  put  away.  Marine  glasses  and  kodaks  came  into  vogue. 
Gwendolen's  bright  eyes,  with  a  pair  equally  alert  and  bright 
beside  them,  strained  vision  for  the  first  land.  The  increase 
of  motion,  however  slight,  served  to  excuse  Yuki's  absence. 
Two  persons  only  assigned  a  different  reason, — her  room- 
mate, Gwendolen,  and  her  fiance,  Pierre  Le  Beau. 

Pierre  had  not  breakfasted  in  the  salon,  —  a  fact  noted  by 
Gwendolen.  He  came  to  the  upper  deck  very  late,  and  lacked 
his  usual  eager  look.  Gwendolen  saw  him  instantly.  Mak- 
ing some  excuse  to  the  group  about  her,  she  went  to  him, 
saying  in  her  direct,  disconcerting  way,  — "What  have  you 
done  to  my  Yuki-ko  ?  She  did  not  sleep  all  night,  and  I  am 
sure  she  was  crying !  To  cry  is  an  unknown  thing  for 
Yuki." 

Pierre  met  her  indignation  with  pathetic  sweetness.  He 
smiled.  It  was  difficult  to  be  harsh  with  Pierre.  He  looked 
past  her  to  the  shining  water.  "  If  Yuki  did  not  speak  of  her 
feeling,  should  I,  even  though  I  knew  ?  "  he  asked,  with  the 
extreme  of  gentleness. 

Gwendolen  flushed  under  the  implied  rebuke.  Her  pur- 
pose, however,  was  not  turned  aside.  "  Yuki  is  a  person 
whose  confidence  or  whose  love  should  not  be  forced.  From 
what  I  know  of  you  both,  I  believe  you  coaxed  and  per- 
suaded her,  last  night,  into  some  new  pledge  that  her  own 
heart  shrank  from  giving.  If  this  is  true,  allow  me  to  tell 
you  that  you  have  made  a  fatal  error,  Pierre  Marie  Le  Beau." 


84  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Pierre  wheeled  to  the  sea.  It  was  as  well  that  she  could 
not  see  his  face.  No  longer  gentle,  it  flared  into  a  cruel 
anger.  His  sole  answer  was  the  slightest,  most  exasperating 
of  shrugs. 

Gwendolen  saw  these  signs  of  irritation,  and  cried  to  her- 
self, "Halt."  With  a  laugh  that  was  quite  successful  for  its 
kind  she  exclaimed,  "  Come,  Pierre,  we  must  not  quarrel  just 
because  we  both  love  Yuki.  I  know  I  seem  rude,  but  I 
became  Yuki's  champion  at  school,  and  the  habit  clings. 
Forgive  me  for  Yuki's  sake." 

He  took  the  slim,  outstretched  hand  and  kissed  it,  but 
allowed  himself  no  further  words.  The  girl  felt  baffled  and 
uncomfortable.  She  recalled  a  saying  of  her  father's,  "  Free 
speech  is  a  luxury  possible  only  to  those  whose  opinions  mean 
nothing."  She  felt  herself  herded  with  that  undesirable 
class. 

"  Well,  I  must  get  back  to  them,"  she  cried,  nodding  in  the 
direction  of  the  group  lately  deserted.  "I  promised  them 
I'd  come  back  at  once." 

"Is  Yuki  indisposed  this  morning  ?"  asked  Pierre.  "May 
I  not  expect  her  on  deck  ?  " 

His  tone  was  condescending.  Gwendolen  writhed  under  it. 
"  She  '11  be  up  in  half  an  hour,  I  guess,"  she  gave  answer,  and 
hurried  away,  rubbing  the  back  of  her  hand  against  her  dress 
as  she  went. 

Dodge  made  room  for  her  at  the  rail.  She  wedged  herself 
in  place  with  a  sigh  of  content.  "  Look  hard,  now  ! "  whis- 
pered her  companion.  "The  others  haven't  a  hint.  Yes, 
right  out  there  in  front,  hard!" 

Gwendolen  stared  obediently.  Surely  there  was  something 
strange,  prophetic  on  that  far  blue  rim.  "Is  it  —  oh,  can  it 
be  —  that  little  roughened  thread  in  the  warp  and  woof  of 
blue  —  is  it  — Japan  ?  " 

The  rumor  spun  about  the  ship,  —  was  caught  up  in  whis- 
pers,—  tangled,  —  tossed  on  to  the  next  group.  "Japan, — 
some  one  has  seen  Japan  !  " 

Men,  with  feet  very  much  apart,  steadied  themselves  behind 
beetle-like  marine  glasses.  "  By  Jove,  there  she  is ! "  The 
waves  outside  fawned  and  bounded  in  answering  excitement. 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS  85 

Dolphins  leaped  high  in  air.  A  whole  fleet  of  "Portuguese 
men-o'-war "  rose  to  the  surface  and  scurried  on  before  them 
as  if  leading  a  swifter  way. 

"I  shall  simply  pass  away  with  ecstasy!  "  cried  Gwendolen. 
"Oh,  why  doesn't  Yuki  come  ?  Look,  Mr.  Dodge;  I  believe 
I  see  sails  —  away  off  there,  between  us  and  the  phantom 
land!" 

"  Doubtless  a  squad  of  detached  fishing-smacks,"  said  Dodge, 
with  that  courier-like  precision  which  seemed  part  of  him  on 
land  or  in  sight  of  land. 

"  Oh !  oh !  oh ! "  shrieked  she,  jumping  up  and  down  like 
a  child.  "  We  are  rushing  straight  for  one.  It  has  a  square 
sail  laced  across  the  slits  with  white  shoestrings.  Oh,  we  are 
going  to  run  it  down  !  " 

"  My  dear  !  "  remonstrated  Mrs.  Todd  at  the  girl's  impetu- 
ous manner.  Her  own  kindly  face  beamed. 

"Not  on  your  life,"  said  Dodge  the  Oracle.  "They  know 
how  to  look  out  for  number  one.  You  just  watch  'em."  Even 
as  he  spoke  the  small  skiff  darted  impudently  into  the  very 
shadow  of  their  looming  bulk,  and  sped  off  again  like  a 
swallow.  Two  impassive  brown  faces  lifted  for  an  instant 
from  the  great  shining  heap  of  bonito  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  were  lowered. 

"  Not  much  floral-anchor  business  about  those  two,  eh, 
Captain  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Todd,  genially,  of  that  magnate,  as  he 
strolled  toward  them. 

"I  admit  the  coast  population  to  be  amphibious,"  laughed 
the  Captain,  "  but  you  can't  make  admirals  out  of  fishermen. 
Miss  Gwendolen,  it  will  soon  be  time  to  look  for  Few-ji." 

"  Oh,  oh! "  cried  Gwendolen  again.  She  was  made  up,  this 
morning,  of  wind-tossed  golden  hair  and  expletives.  "  Cer- 
tainly no  one  ever  saw  it,  truly,  at  such  a  distance! " 

"  I  have,"  boasted  Dodge.  "  On  a  clear  day  I  Jve  seen  the 
thing  a  hundred  miles  off,  when  it  looked  like  a  little  white 
tee  on  a  blue  golf  links,  don't  you  know." 

"Golf  links!"  echoed  Gwendolen.  "What  an  unworthy 
simile  !  " 

"  Why  not  links  ?  —  first-class  thing,  a  good  links !  Don't 
you  play,  Miss  Todd  ?  " 


86  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"  No,"  answered  Gwendolen,  truthfully,  "  I  don't  play,  but 
I  like  to  pose,  the  costumes  are  so  utterly  fetching;  and  I 
dote  on  standing  with  my  driver  behind  me,  like  girls  in 
illustrated  picture  papers." 

She  turned  to  search  the  shimmering  horizon  for  the  vision 
it  would  not  yield.  "Oh,  where  is  that  mountain!  I  wish 
Yuki  would  come.  It  might  appear  directly  for  Yuki-ko." 

"Here  is  Yuki,"  said  the  low,  strange  voice  that  could  have 
belonged  to  no  other. 

Gwendolen  seized  her.  "  Good-morning,  Miss  Onda," 
smiled  Dodge.  "  Now  we  are  all  fit.  Kindly  invoke  your 
enchanted  summit  to  our  wondering  gaze.  I  have  been  told 
that  it  was  bad  luck  to  land  after  a  long  journey  without  a 
glimpse  of  Fuji-san." 

"  I  think  the  bad  luck  for  only  Nipponese,"  said  Yuki. 

"  And  the  good  luck  too,  I  presume,  if  it  turns  that  way  ? 
How  inhospitable ! " 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  The  good  luck  and  the  bad  luck,"  was 
Yuki's  serious  reply. 

Pierre,  strolling  at  the  rear  end  of  the  passenger  deck,  must 
have  seen  Yuki.  He  made  no  sign,  however,  and  continued 
to  stroll  alone,  smoking  cigarettes,  with  a  pleasant  look  or 
reply  for  any  chance  acquaintance,  but  a  mind  evidently 
involved  in  its  own  problems. 

Neither  of  the  girls  saw  him.  They  leaned  together  now 
upon  the  rail.  Gwendolen  had  an  arm  about  her  friend.  To- 
gether they  stared  out  toward  the  land.  Dodge  had  been 
called  away.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Todd  were  seated,  the  former 
carefully  counting  out  bills  for  various  "  tips "  soon  to  be 
distributed.  The  schoolmates  were  practically  alone. 

The  land  showed  clearly  now  its  hill  and  rock  formation. 
Layer  after  layer,  set  upright  from  the  sea,  vanished  into 
hazy  distance.  Promontory  after  promontory  tapered  down 
at  the  far  point  to  a  surf-beaten  line  of  rocks.  Farther  peaks 
rose  in  tones  of  blue,  —  some  thin  as  water,  others  rich  and 
dark,  like  great  gentians.  On  the  nearer  hills,  forests  and 
shaven  spots  of  green  appeared.  The  water  around  them 
shone  and  stirred  with  sails,  the  square-laced  sails  of  junks. 
Bronze-colored  boatmen,  scantily  clad,  stood  on  the  swaying 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  87 

edge  of  a  boat  and  shaded  their  eyes  to  peer  upward  at  the 
strange,  white-faced  <•' seiyo-jin."  Among  the  junks,  sailless 
sampan,  propelled  by  one  crooked  oar,  tumbled  like  queer  sea- 
beetles  with  a  single  jointed  leg. 

"  Gwendolen,"  said  Yuki,  in  a  very  low  voice,  "do  you  see 
a  long,  green  patch,  like  moss,  over  on  that  brown  slope  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  thinking  it  looked  like  curled  parsley." 

"  That  is  really  a  forest,  —  quite  a  big  little  forest,. —  made 
of  sugi,  and  camphor,  and  camellia  trees.  Listen;  I  thought 
then  that  I  heard  the  deep  sound  of  a  bell ! " 

"I  hear  nothing  but  water  and  the  wind." 

"  It  was  the  temple  bell,"  insisted  Yuki.  "And  now,  dear, 
look  more  close.  Do  you  not  see,  right  on  the  edge  of 
beach,  a  small  red  something  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  there  is  a  little  square  of  red  like  the  frame- 
work of  a  door." 

"  It  is  torii,  —  red  torii,  or  sacred  gate ;  and  beyond  that 
gate  are  many,  many  stone  steps  leading  up  to  the  temple. 
Ah  !  such  steps  as  those,  —  so  quiet,  so  deep,  so  still !  They 
lead  the  heart  up  before  ever  the  clumsy  feet  have  climbed." 

A  little  steam  launch,  bearing  the  flag  of  the  rising  sun, 
came  puffing  and  squealing  toward  them.  The  ship's  steps 
were  lowered.  Grave,  correct  Japanese  officers  took  pos- 
session. Their  news  was  astounding.  War's  breath  already 
heated  the  land.  The  Japanese  minister  at  St.  Petersburg 
even  then  made  preparation  for  instant  departure,  and  his 
Kussian  colleague  in  Yedo  did  the  same.  The  severance  of 
diplomatic  relations  between  the  countries  meant,  of  course, 
no  less  than  a  declaration  of  war. 

From  the  moment  of  hearing  this,  neither  Mr.  Todd  nor  his 
secretary  had  a  thought  for  anything  besides, — no,  not  even 
for  pretty  Gwendolen,  who,  for  a  while,  sulked  alone,  then, 
seeing  it  useless,  sought  consolation  in  engaging  herself  to  all 
the  unmarried  male  passengers,  one  after  the  other,  and  most 
of  the  ship's  officers,  irrespective  of  connubial  ties. 

Pierre  and  Yuki  had  met,  neither  looking  with  entire 
frankness  into  the  eyes  of  the  other.  To  Yuki  the  promise 
given  meant  a  haircloth  shirt  beneath  her  robe  of  gladness, 


88  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

a  stone  dragging  her  back  from  flight.  To  Pierre  it  was, 
in  all  sincerity,  their  one  substantial  pledge  of  future  happi- 
ness. He  was  the  man.  It  was  for  him  to  judge,  not 
Yuki;  and  he  believed  the  very  reluctance  with  which  she 
gave  the  word,  a  proof  of  its  necessity.  It  was  characteristic 
of  both  that  no  reference  was  made  to  the  subject  most  vital 
in  their  thoughts.  Yuki  watched  with  apparent  composure 
the  slow  approach  to  Yokohama  Bay,  Awa's  cone-shaped 
masses,  and  the  long,  green  northern  coast  fading  into  eastern 
haze.  Fuji  had  not  shone  for  them,  —  in  spite  of  a  cloudless 
day.  "  It  sometimes  went  away  like  that,"  Yuki  had  assured 
the  disappointed  ones.  "  Children  thought  that  it  went  visit- 
ing to  the  gardens  of  the  gods." 

The  harbor  channel  was  free.  The  ship  went  slowly, 
majestically,  like  a  great  deliberate  swan,  sheer  to  the  stone 
steps  of  the  wharf.  Yuki's  reserve  faltered.  "  My  people,  — 
oh,  my  dear  people  !  I  think  I  see  their  faces  in  that  waiting 
crowd ! "  they  heard  her  whisper.  She  stretched  out  her 
arms.  A  sob  choked  in  her  throat.  Four  years,  —  four  long, 
long  years,  and  yet  how  familiar  the  look  of  her  native  land  ! 
The  little  wind-bent  pines  along  the  stone  dyke  had  not 
changed  a  leaf.  Those  long,  waiting  rows  of  empty  jinrikishas 
might  hold  one  that  had  been  waiting  for  her  through  an 
hour  of  shopping  in  the  foreign  stores  of  Yokohama.  And, 
oh,  the  dear  welcoming  friends  there  on  the  steps  ! 

Their  party  was  the  first  to  cross  the  platform  of  the 
lowered  flight  of  stairs.  Yuki  touched  the  first  stone  step, 
and  gazed  eagerly  above  her.  Yes,  that  was  her  mother,  that 
gentlest,  sweetest,  most  beautiful  face  among  them  all !  Be- 
hind her  stood  Onda  Tetsujo,  Yuki's  father,  with  his  plain 
blue  robes,  and  gray,  nobly  poised  head. 

"  Mother  !  Okkasan,  —  Shibaraku  ! "  (How  long  the  ab- 
sence ! )  cried  the  girl,  with  a  broken  note  of  rapture  in  her  voice. 
Bounding  up  the  steps,  she  clasped  and  was  clasped  again  by 
the  slender  gray  figure.  Tetsujo  drew  back,  a  fleeting  look 
of  perplexity  in  his  face.  He  had  not  recognized  Yuki,  thus 
seen,  for  the  first  time,  in  her  perfectly  adapted  foreign  gar- 
ments; but  Iriya  had  known,  from  the  moment  her  eyes 
caught  the  small  brown-clad  figure  at  the  rail.  The  mother 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  89 

in  her  swept  away,  for  the  instant,  high  barriers  of  Japanese 
etiquette.  She  clung  to  her  child,  fondling  her,  pressing  trem- 
bling lips  to  the  soft  young  cheeks,  and  murmuring,  "My 
baby,  —  my  little  one,  —  my  treasure,  who  has  come  back  to 
me!" 

A  moment  later  they  had  drawn  apart,  both  with  wet  eyes 
and  quivering  lips,  and  small,  bashful  side-looks  of  love ;  for 
such  public  demonstration  is  practically  unknown  among  sam- 
urai women.  Already  these  two  were  a  little  ashamed  of  it. 
Tetsujo  realized  at  last  that  it  was  his  daughter,  but,  because 
of  her  strange  conduct,  wore  still  an  uncomprehending  wrinkle 
between  his  heavy  brows. 

The  Todd  party,  Pierre  and  Mr.  T.  Caraway  Dodge  included, 
came  hesitatingly  near.  The  Japanese  crowd  drew  back,  some 
in  distaste,  some  in  politeness,  some  because  their  own  friends 
had  arrived,  and  there  was  no  longer  a  reason  for  staying. 
Yuki,  with  a  hand  on  Gwendolen's  arm,  began  the  introduc- 
tions. When  it  came  to  the  two  young  men,  she  hesitated 
slightly.  Her  father's  deep,  keen  eyes  rested  on  the  faces 
first  of  one,  then  of  the  other.  The  two  names,  as  she  hurried 
them  over,  were  practically  unintelligible. 

Kind-hearted  Mrs.  Todd,  observing  Yuki's  embarrassment 
and  feeling  that  she  had  at  least  a  hint  as  to  its  cause,  rushed 
gallantly  into  the  breech.  Her  efforts  centred  on  shrinking 
Mrs.  Onda.  "  Are  you  really  Yuki's  mother  ?  "  she  demanded 
in  a  loud,  playful  voice.  "  You  look  to  me  like  her  sister.  I 
would  n't  believe,  unless  I  were  told,  that  you  had  more  than 
five  years  between  you." 

Yuki  threw  a  glance  of  gratitude  toward  the  speaker. 
"  Mother,  Mrs.  Todd  says  that  you  appear  augustly  young  to  be 
indeed  the  daughter  of  a  big  girl  like  me." 

Iriya  flushed  and  bowed,  looking  more  than  ever  like  her 
daughter.  She  answered  in  Japanese,  "  Please  honorably  to 
thank  the  lady  for  her  compliment,  but  acquaint  her  with  the 
fact  that  I  am  already  lamentably  old.  On  my  next  birthday 
I  shall  be  thirty-nine." 

Tetsujo,  having  accomplished  his  share  of  stiff  bows,  —  not 
forgetting  an  extra  one  for  the  new  American  minister,  —  said 
to  his  daughter,  "  My  child,  we  are  indeed  happy  to  welcome 


90  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

you.  Now  thank  your  good  friends  in  uiy  name.  Suitable 
presents  shall  be  sent  them.  We  must  depart  for  Yedo." 
He  moved  one  finger  toward  three  waiting  jinrikisha  men 
near-by,  and  the  vehicles,  like  magic,  stood  beside  him. 

"Now,  already  it  must  be  'Sayonara.'  My  father  desires 
me  to  go,"  said  Yuki,  and  smiled  a  little  tremulously  from  one 
foreign  face  to  another.  These  farewells  at  the  end  of  a  long 
and  pleasant  journey  are  never  careless  things  to  say.  "  Of 
course  I  will  see  all  —  every  one  —  very  soon!  " 

"Yuki!  Why,  we  never  thought  of  this.  You  mustn't 
leave  us  so!"  cried  Gwendolen,  in  consternation. 

"  No !  "  added  Pierre,  with  more  vehemence.  "  It  is  n't  to 
be  thought  of.  Tell  your  father  that  we  are  counting  on  you 
for  the  day."  He  stepped  close  to  her.  Yuki  instinctively 
shrank.  The  puzzled  look  came  again  to  the  face  of  Tetsujo. 

"Be  careful,  Pierre!  Look  at  his  face!  You  will  make  a 
false  move  at  the  start,"  came  Gwendolen's  whisper. 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  stand  here  patiently  and  see  her  car- 
ried away  ?  Non  !  Mon  Dieu,  it  was  to  have  been  the  con- 
secrating day  of  our  lives!  I  do  not  give  it  up.  I  will  try 
speaking  myself  with  her  father." 

"  Gwendolen  is  right.     Do  not  speak! "  panted  Yuki. 

But  Pierre  was  not  one  to  relinquish  bliss  so  easily.  No 
move  seemed  to  him  quite  as  undesirable  as  the  one  about  to 
take  place.  Facing  the  astonished  samurai,  he  began  a  series 
of  bows  which  he  fondly  conceived  to  embody  the  finer  points 
of  both  French  and  Japanese  etiquette. 

"Monsieur  Onda,  —  Onda  San,"  he  commenced  eagerly, 
"  Miss  Yuki  must  not  go.  Ikimasen!  Stay  here  with  friends, 
—  tomodachi.  She  can  go  your  house  —  afternoon.  Please  do 
not  take  her  now." 

Onda  looked  blankly  and  in  silence  upon  the  antics  of  the 
strange  creature.  Not  one  gleam  of  comprehension  enlivened 
his  fixed  gaze. 

"  Here,  man,  let  me  get  to  him,"  said  Dodge,  thrusting  him- 
self in  front  of  Pierre.  "  I  '11  translate  what  you  are  trying 
to  say,  though  it  is  n't  a  particle  of  use.  Shall  I  go  on  ?  " 

"  Merci." 

Speaking  slowly,  in  fairly  good  Japanese,  Dodge  said,  "  We 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  91 

having  hoped  to  enjoy  the  company  of  your  daughter  on  this 
first  day  of  landing,  I  aui  requested  to  entreat  your  august 
permission  to  allow  her  to  remain.  If  you  and  your  wife  will 
join  our  party  also,  we  shall  feel  honored  by  your  condescen- 
sion." "  Never  told  a  bigger  lie  in  my  life !  "  was  his  mental 
note  after  this  last  remark. 

Tetsujo  replied  by  the  courtesy  of  a  stiff  bow.  With  no 
further  glance  or  word  for  the  speaker,  he  stepped  up  into  his 
jinrikisha,  and  once  seated,  said  to  Yuki,  "Reply  to  the 
speech  of  the  foreigner,  my  child." 

"I  am  to  go  with  my  parents,  of  course,"  said  Yuki,  nerv- 
ously. "  I  wish  it.  I  did  not  know  you  were  planning  so  sure 
for  me  to  remain.  I  must  go  now,  at  once,  but  will  see  you  as 
soon  as  I  may,  to-morrow,  or  perhaps  this  very  afternoon." 

Iriya  had  bowed  to  the  foreigners  and  entered  her  jinrikisha 
immediately  after  Tetsujo.  Yuki  now  climbed  into  the  re- 
maining one,  neither  Dodge  nor  Pierre  retaining  enough  self- 
possession  to  assist  her.  The  three  coolies  caught  up  the 
shafts  for  starting. 

"  Here,  stop,  stop ! "  cried  Gwendolen,  springing  forward. 
"Yuki,  we  don't  even  know  your  Tokio  address!" 

Tetsujo  gave  a  gesture  and  a  "cluck."  The  coolies  sprang 
into  action. 

"  Ko-ishikawa,  Kobinata,  Shi  —  ju  — "  trailed  off  Yuki's 
voice  into  the  rattling  of  the  streets. 

"  The  ogre !    I'll  catch  the  next  train  for  Tokio,"  cried  Pierre. 

"  Better  stay  with  us  and  s.ee  about  your  baggage,  Pierre," 
said  Mr.  Todd,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "  The  girl  should 
go  with  her  people,  and  you  know  it." 

"But,  poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Todd,  soothingly,  her  hand 
touching  his  arm,  "I  know  how  he  has  counted  on  seeing 
the  sights  with  Yuki." 

Onda  Tetsujo's  spoken  order  had  been  "  stenshun !"  (station), 
for  so  have  the  Japanese  incorporated  our  familiar  word.  A 
train  was  just  leaving  for  Yedo.  Three  second-class  tickets 
were  bought,  and  the  kuruma-men  overpaid  and  dismissed.  Had 
they  been  merely  "paid,"  a  later  train  would  have  been  taken. 

The  short  encounter  on  the  Yokohama  pier  evidently  re- 


92  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

mained  in  the  master's  mind  as  a  most  disagreeable  impression. 
While  in  no  sense  a  stupid  man,  the  quality  of  Onda's  intellect 
was  torpid  rather  than  alert.  Things  came  to  him  slowly,  and 
remained  long. 

It  happened  that  their  train  was  a  "local,"  stopping  at  all 
the  small  intermediate  stations.  Between  Yokohama  and  the 
next  stop,  —  Kanagawa,  —  not  a  word  was  spoken.  Yuki  felt 
bewildered,  dazed,  distressed.  What  had  happened  ?  What 
was  spoiling  her  home-coming  ?  The  promise  was  not  all,  for 
here  were  her  parents,  moody  and  ill  at  ease,  and  they  as  yet 
knew  nothing  of  her  pledge.  Surely  the  few  injudicious 
words  Pierre  tried  to  speak  should  not  have  wrought  all  this. 
Poor  Pierre,  with  his  hurt  blue  eyes  and  outstretched  hand 
of  longing !  Well,  the  American  girls  used  to  say  that  true 
love  never  did  run  smooth.  Here  she  gave  a  sigh  so  deep  that 
Iriya  started.  All  three  gazed  heavily  from  the  windows, 
only  half  seeing  the  villages  sweep  past,  and  the  wide,  gleam- 
ing rice-fields  in  their  winter  flood,  and  the  long  edge  of 
Yedo  Bay  set  with  pines,  and  flecked  with  shining  sails. 
The  gaudy  fluttering  of  small  banners  above  the  tea  booths  of 
Kawasaki  brought  a  momentary  light  of  pleasure  into  the 
girl's  eyes.  It  died  down  as  quickly.  Her  father's  averted 
face  clouded  her  sun.  Yet  unconsciously  the  charm  and  the 
glamour  of  the  country  was  stealing  back.  At  Omori,  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  of  these  suburban  villages,  their  compart- 
ment, being  toward  the  rear  of  the  train,  stopped,  it  would 
seem,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  grove  of  "  ume  "  flowers,  just 
coming  into  bloom.  It  is  an  old  orchard,  knowing  many  gen- 
erations of  loving  care.  It  is  trimmed  and  tended  for  beauty 
alone,  the  small  sour  fruit  called  by  foreigners  "  plums  "  being 
uneatable,  and  no  more  to  the  Japanese  marketer  than  are 
"  rose-apples  "  to  us.  The  trees,  set  close  together  so  that  tips 
of  branches  met,  were  entirely  leafless,  and  frosted  over  with 
a  delicate  lichen  growth.  On  this  silver  filigree  of  boughs 
the  blossoms  shone,  white,  crimson,  or  pink, — translucent 
gems  of  flowers.  The  odor,  stealing  softly  to  Yuki  in  little 
throbs,  smote  her  as  with  an  ecstasy  of  remembrance.  There 
is  no  subtler  necromancer  than  perfume.  Through  it  the  past 
may  be  reconstructed,  dead  love  quiver  into  life,  and  sorrow, 


THE  BREATH  OF   THE  GODS  93 

often  more  precious  than  joy  itself,  steal  back  like  a  loving 
ghost. 

Yuki  seemed  to  wake  suddenly,  as  from  a  troubled  sleep. 
"  Why,"  she  cried  to  herself,  "  I  am  at  home  again !  This 
is  Japan ! "  She  sat  upright  now,  eager  and  vivid,  looking 
from  one  window  to  another,  a  new  brightness  in  her  face. 
The  locomotive,  which  had  been  restlessly  inactive  for  a  few 
moments  past,  gave  a  long,  shrill  whistle,  drew  itself  together, 
and  prepared  for  another  run.  Just  as  the  wheels  were  turn- 
ing, a  broad-faced  woman  of  the  peasant  class,  with  a  fat  baby 
on  her  back,  a  toddler  of  two  years  led  by  one  hand,  and  a  pair 
of  squawking  geese  held  in  the  other,  wriggled  herself  through 
the  turnstile  and  waved  the  shrieking  fowls,  as  signal  for  the 
train  to  stop.  The  gatekeeper,  clutching  after  her,  seized  a 
limb  of  the  sleeping  infant.  Instantly  a  human  scream  added 
to  the  clamor  of  the  geese.  Heads  were  thrust  from  car  win- 
dows,—  the  guard,  dropping  the  infant's  leg,  seized  its  mother 
by  the  sash.  He  chanced  to  be  a  small  man,  she  an  unusually 
large  woman.  As  a  consequence  she  dragged  him  after  her. 
At  this  sight  a  train  official,  leaning  as  far  outward  as  he 
could  for  laughing,  signalled  the  engineer  to  "  back."  The 
victorious  one  hurled  herself  and  her  living  burdens  into  an 
already  overcrowded  third-class  car.  A  place  was  made  for 
her,  not  without  many  exclamations,  such  as  "  Domo  !  Osoi !  " 
(It  is  late.)  "  Kodomo-san  itai  ka!  "  (Is  Mr.  Baby  hurt?)  and 
a  few  gruff  sounds  of  "  lya  desu  yo  !  "  (How  disagreeable  ! ) 
The  locomotive,  as  if  conscious  of  a  good  deed,  tooted  more 
loudly  than  before,  and  made  another  start. 

Yuki  sparkled  with  delight.  "  Think  of  a  train  official 
doing  that  in  America!"  she  laughed  aloud. 

Iriya's  answering  smile  was  pathetic  in  its  quickness  of 
response.  She  moved  closer,  pressing  against  Yuki's  smart, 
foreign  shoulder.  The  two  began  to  watch,  like  happy  chil- 
dren, the  passing  scenes. 

Tetsujo  drew  forth  his  pipe  and  smoked  himself  into  seren- 
ity. He  listened  now  to  what  the  women  said.  There  were 
other  passengers,  of  course,  but  Tetsujo  and  his  companions 
had  preempted  a  little  corner  in  the  rear.  Iriya  spoke  of  old 
Suzume,  who  was  waiting  so  impatiently  at  home  to  see  her 


94  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

charge,  —  of  little  Maru  San,  a  distant  connection  of  Suzume, 
who,  since  Yuki's  departure,  had  been  employed  as  maid-of- 
all-work  about  the  house.  Messages  of  welcome  from  friends 
and  relatives  were  given.  At  the  last,  dropping  her  voice 
impressively,  Iriya  spoke  of  the  coming  war.  "  It  is  inevit- 
able," she  said.  "  Prince  Hagane  informed  Tetsujo  only  this 
morning.  There  can  be  no  doubt." 

The  old  scenes,  the  old  interests,  glowed  anew  in  the  girl's 
heart.  Really  they  had  never  left  it,  but,  like  certain  writing, 
illegible  except  in  warmth,  the  pictures  slept  until  the  breath 
of  her  own  land  awaked  them.  She  had  a  strange  sense  of 
being  slowly  turned  back  to  a  child.  In  an  English  fairy-book 
a  certain  Alice  could  grow  tall  or  short  at  will  by  nibbling 
at  a  magic  mushroom.  There  had  always  been  magic  mush- 
rooms in  the  East,  long,  long  before  that  book  was  written,  — 
strange  mountain  growths  which  are  the  only  food  of  the  ghost 
deer  that  attend  the  genii  of  the  forest.  Perhaps  the  little 
brown  sembei  which  she  had  just  bought  at  Omori  from  an 
insistent  peddler  was,  in  reality,  a  scrap  of  an  enchanted 
mushroom.  Perhaps  she  was  really  turning  back  into  the 
little  Japanese  Yuki  who  had  never  been  to  America  at  all, 
who  had  never  known  a  foreign  lover,  or  given  a  promise 
which  her  reason  told  her  to  refuse.  Her  heart  stopped  beat- 
ing for  an  instant.  She  took  a  second  bite  of  sembei.  Again 
the  trouble  faded.  Yes,  surely,  it  was  a  magic  mushroom. 

Now  merry  talk  flowed  from  her  smiling  lips.  Tetsujo 
moved  nearer.  She  called  him  "  Chichi  Sarna,"  as  in  baby 
days,  and  her  mother  "  Haha  San." 

The  train  made  its  final  stop.  A  torrent  of  blue-robed  occu- 
pants poured  out  from  every  car.  The  sound  of  wooden  clogs 
upon  the  concrete  floor  was  like  innumerable  hollow  shells 
scraped,  lip  down,  upon  an  empty  box.  Yuki's  heart  swept 
in  with  the  throng.  She  loved  the  noise,  the  bare  station,  the 
hissing  car,  the  very  dust  of  the  travellers'  feet.  Tetsujo  and 
Iriya  exchanged  glances  behind  her  back,  and  smiled.  Their 
eyes  said,  "  This  is  our  dear  one,  —  our  own  ;  not  an  American 
changeling,  but  the  daughter  for  whom  we  have  been 
yearning." 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

FROM  the  square,  gray  platform  of  Shimbashi  station,  ter- 
raced by  stone  steps,  hung  with  tiled  eaves,  and  surrounded 
by  a  swarming  school  of  black  jinrikishas,  each  with  a  chatter- 
ing, gesticulating,  blue-clad  human  horse  before  it,  one  dives 
at  will  into  the  iridescent  life  of  modern  Yedo.  Regarded 
as  a  city,  it  is  little  more  than  a  collection  of  villages  care- 
lessly swept  together ;  little  communities  where  the  same 
streets  catch  up  altered  names  ;  districts  with  opposing  trades, 
antagonistic  feast-days,  and  rival  deities. 

Tanners  preempt  an  unsavory  ward.  Shoemakers  claim 
for  themselves  a  network  of  small  streets.  The  dry-goods 
merchants  command  an  avenue.  Pipe-sellers,  wine-mer- 
chants, tobacconists,  book-sellers,  marketmen,  carpenters,  — 
each  guild  tends  to  make  a  centre  for  itself.  Perhaps,  as  one 
consequence  of  this  segregation,  Tokio  becomes  the  stronghold 
of  street  peddlers.  It  matters  little  to  the  housewife  that  the 
nearest  market  is  four  miles  away,  when  sections  of  that 
market,  strapped  to  boyish  shoulders,  go  crying  past  her  gate 
with  the  punctuality  of  planets.  Tokio  is  a  place  where 
circulating  libraries  literally  circulate ;  where  perambulating 
oil-shops  fill  lamps  on  the  patron's  kitchen  step  or  in  the 
glass  frame  at  his  gate,  and  then  stop  to  light  them ;  where 
the  tailor  finishes  a  quilt  or  an  overcoat  on  the  bedroom  floor, 
and  the  hair-dresser  needs  no  local  habitation. 

In  a  great  semicircle  crowded  near  the  Eed  Gate  of  the 
Imperial  University,  live  and  study  and  brawl  and  bluster  the 
students,  —  the  future  Nogis,  Togos,  Kurokis,  Saigos,  Itos,  and 
Oyamas  of  their  race, — now  no  more  than  restless  young 
spirits  in  a  recognized  democracy  of  their  own.  Some  of  them 
cook  their  own  meals  and  patch  their  own  faded  hakama,  — 
a  species  of  heroism  to  make  death  on  a  battlefield  grow  tame. 
Others  "  board  "  in  one  of  the  long,  barn-like  dormitories,  or 


96  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

in  a  convenient  cheap  lodging-house,  often  three  and  four  in 
a  room,  at  the  enormous  rate  of  fifty  cents  a  week.  Poverty 
seems  to  them  admirable,  nothing  whatever  to  be  ashamed  of. 
The  Japanese  youth  of  the  samurai  class  is  bred  to  a  distaste 
of  bodily  luxury.  Should  one  of  their  number  show  a  leaning 
toward  soft  cushions  and  rich  food,  the  others  ridicule  him, 
call  him  "0 Share  Sama,"  the  Tokio  equivalent  of  "Dandy," 
and  say  that  his  soul  grows  fat. 

Yuki  sped  through  all,  breathless  with  the  wonder  of  home- 
returning.  The  three  jinrikishas,  Tetsujo,  of  course,  in  the 
lead,  went  one  after  the  other  in  a  straight  line,  as  though  on 
an  invisible  track.  Whether  in  a  lane  four  feet  wide,  or  in  an 
avenue  two  hundred,  this  goose-like  manner  of  procedure  never 
changed.  Old  familiar  street-corners,  familiar  pines,  changed 
shop  fronts,  appealed  to  the  girl  with  a  sense  of  reality.  Her 
eyes  filled  and  her  heart  beat  faster  as  she  caught  her  first 
glimpse,  after  four  years,  of  towering  moated  walls  where 
crawled  the  "  Dragon  Pines  "  of  lyemitsu,  and  of  the  high  dark 
roof  now  sheltering  her  beloved  ruler. 

Beyond  the  palace  and  its  moats  came  foreignized  Yedo. 
Sidewalks  were  here,  though  pedestrians  still  preferred  the 
middle  of  the  street,  turning  aside  good-naturedly  at  the 
warning  "  Hek !  hek !  "  of  approaching  vehicles.  The  streets, 
conspicuously  broad,  were  paved  with  concrete  or  with  stone 
On  every  side  rose  buildings  just  completed,  of  brick  and 
stone,  or  great  steel  frames  for  other  edifices.  It  might 
have  been  Connecticut.  The  sidewalk  trees,  set  rigidly  in 
hollowed  concrete  basins,  refused  to  grow  in  Japanese  fashion, 
and  had  the  poise  of  elms.  Down  centres  of  these  streets 
horse-cars  jangled.  Work  was  already  started  on  the  super- 
seding electric  line.  Yuki  observed  it  all  with  conscious 
pride,  yet  her  eyes  brightened  with  new  eagerness  as  another 
quick  turn  plunged  them  once  more  into  the  heart  of  feudal 
Yedo. 

The  streets  narrowed  now  to  lanes,  bordered  on  each  side 
with  shops,  —  mere  open  booths,  —  flung  wide  to  the  dim  rear 
plaster  wall.  Shelves  holding  various  wares  came  down  sheer 
to  the  matted  floor.  In  the  middle  of  the  space  generally  sat 
the  master,  while  skirmishing  about,  sometimes  in  a  gloomy 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  97 

slit  of  a  passage  to  the  rear,  sometimes  up  or  down  stepladder- 
like  stairs  to  a  crouching  upper  story,  could  be  seen  the  small 
apprentices,  or  kozo.  The  life  of  the  Japanese  kozo  forms  a 
literature  to  itself  ;  but  this  is  not  the  place  to  begin  it.  These 
were  the  narrow  streets  Yuki  had  longed  for.  Here  were  the 
shop  signs  swinging  wonderful  tones  of  blue,  dark  crimson, 
and  white,  here  the  great  gold  Chinese  ideograph,  sprawling 
across  long  banners. 

In  a  sort  of  pause  between  districts  came  a  hint  of  suburbs, 
and,  winding  through  it,  Little  Pebble  River.  A  river  is 
never  more  mysterious  than  when  carrying  its  deep  secrets 
through  a  busy  town.  This  one,  the  Koishikawa,  dominated 
the  section  through  which  it  passed,  giving  its  own  name,  and 
establishing  certain  small  industries  of  dyeing,  grinding, 
fishing,  and  boating  possible  nowhere  else  in  Yedo,  until  the 
great  central  artery  of  the  Sumida  is  reached.  Cherry-trees 
joined  finger-tips  above  the  Koishikawa,  —  real  grass  crept 
down  its  banks  to  trail  finger  in  the  hurrying  tide. 

It  was  all  beautiful,  all  real,  all  familiar.  From  afar  the 
clanging  of  beaten  metal  smote  the  ears.  Yuki  remembered 
that  the  main  bridge  led  almost  to  the  great  gate  of  the 
Arsenal.  A  moment  later  it  came  into  view.  Tall  chimneys 
pulsed  black  worlds  of  smoke,  and  corrugated  roofs  scowled 
above  spiked,  enclosing  walls.  At  every  gate  stood  a  sentry- 
box  and  a  soldier  in  blue  uniform. 

"  A  mighty  noise,  young  lady !  "  volunteered  Yuki's  jin- 
rikisha  man,  in  a  hoarse  shout.  He  nodded  his  head  toward 
the  clamor,  and  then  looked  backward  to  bestow  on  her  a  con- 
fidential grin.  In  the  river,  just  in  front  of  the  arsenal,  great 
muddy  barges  were  poled  in  and  beached,  —  with  loads  of 
coal  and  copper,  iron  and  wood. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  it  is  a  terrible  noise,"  answered  Yuki  politely. 
"  They  must  be  very  busy  behind  those  walls."  She  sighed 
heavily,  but  her  sigh  was  lost  in  the  roar  of  flame.  The  fact 
that  her  country  was  at  that  very  moment  on  the  verge  of  war 
with  Russia,  perhaps  with  France  also,  —  with  France, 
Pierre's  country  !  —  was  one  of  those  thoughts  she  was  trying 
to  keep  away. 

"  They  work  with  double  force  by  lamp  and  by  sun,"  boasted 

7 


98  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

the  jinrikisha  man,  when  they  had  passed  the  most  deafening 
uproar.  "  Oh,  but  the  Russians  think  us  children  to  be 
cheated  and  lied  to !  But  we  are  preparing  a  lesson  for  the 
cowardly  bears,  —  we  do  not  fear  them  !  Look,  0  Jo  San  ! " 
He  chuckled  loudly,  and  without  relaxing  his  wonderful  me- 
chanical trot  or  falling  an  inch  behind  the  pace  of  the  two 
preceding  kuruina,  unwrapped  from  his  wrist  the  inevitable 
twisted  tenugui,  or  hand  towel.  Keeping  one  end  under  his 
palm,  he  let  the  rest  stream  backward,  like  a  flag.  Instead 
of  the  usual  bird,  flower,  or  landscape  etching  in  indigo  blue, 
the  pattern  represented  a  fleet  of  Japanese  war-ships  in  full 
engagement  with  the  Russian  navy.  Under  the  water-level 
great  communities  of  deep-sea  fish  looked  expectantly  up- 
ward, chop-sticks  and  rice-bowls  in  their  fins.  A  few  Rus- 
sian sailors,  the  first  of  a  gorging  repast,  had  commenced 
to  sink  downward.  The  eyes  of  the  fish  were  admirable  in 
their  expression  of  calm  certainty.  Thus,  before  the  firing 
of  Togo's  first  challenge,  did  the  Tokio  populace  enjoy 
prophetic  visions. 

Beyond  the  arsenal,  and  its  huddled  concourse  of  working- 
men's  houses  waiting  just  without  the  walls,  the  Koishikawa 
took  a  more  definite  turn  to  the  north.  The  Onda  party,  fol- 
lowing it,  came  soon  to  a  region  of  green  lanes  and  pleasant 
gardens.  The  clamor  of  metal-workers  died  away.  One  knew 
that  birds  lived  in  the  groves.  Before  them  the  highland  of 
the  district  loomed  in  great  dark  masses,  and  splendid  trees 
of  camphor  and  of  pine  soared  clear  against  the  blue.  At 
foot  of  the  hill  "  Kobinata  "  (Little  Sunshine)  the  three  jin- 
rikishas  halted  in  unison,  and  the  three  runners  looked  with 
bovine  yet  inquiring  faces,  each  upon  his  living  burden. 
The  hillside  road,  now  to  be  taken,  rose  steep  and  white  be- 
tween bamboo  hedges.  Onda  motioned  his  coolie  to  lower  the 
shafts.  "  I  am  a  heavy  man,  and  with  my  own  feet  will  take 
the  slope,"  he  said. 

"  No,  no,  honorable  master.  Indeed  I  say  no ! "  protested 
the  coolie,  while  making  the  greatest  haste  to  obey.  "  It  is 
not  fitting  that  so  exalted  a  person  as  your  divine  lordship 
should  walk.  Though  I  break  my  worthless  bones,  I  will 
draw  you  up  that  precipice!" 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  99 

Onda,  smiling  slightly,  stepped  into  the  road.  Iriya  would 
have  followed  his  example,  but  he  motioned,  bidding  her,  and 
likewise  Yuki,  to  remain  seated.  He  paused  to  tuck  his  blue 
robe  a  few  inches  higher,  catching  the  pointed  end-fold  in  his 
belt.  Iriya  and  her  grunting  bearer  went  by  him.  He  re- 
mained standing,  waiting  for  Yuki.  Their  eyes  met,  and  both 
smiled.  He  put  one  powerful  hand  to  the  back  of  the  girl's 
vehicle,  his  face  being  then  about  on  a  level  with  hers,  and, 
ascending  the  hill  beside  her,  used  his  supplementary  strength 
at  the  very  steep  or  stony  place". 

The  girl  sat  very  slim  and  straight,  looking  eagerly  about 
her.  "  Father,  what  is  it  about  this  land  of  ours  that  makes 
all  things  so  honorably  different,  — so  strangely  beautiful  ?" 

"My  daughter,  it  is  not  well  to  speak  boastfully,  even  of 
one's  land,"  answered  Tetsujo;  but  his  fine,  strong  face  did 
not  bear  out  the  reproof  of  his  words. 

"  There  will  be  a  gate  now,  soon  to  the  left,  —  a  little  gate 
of  straw  thatching,  tied  with  loops  of  black  hemp  twine!  A 
pine-tree  sends  one  stiff  arm  across  it.  On  a  clear  day  one 
sees,  in  that  green  frame,  the  snows  of  Fuji-san  !  Oh,  can  I 
bear  it,  father  ?  I  must  speak.  My  heart  aches  already  with 
the  loveliness.  See,  even  the  trees  know  that  they  are  beauti- 
ful ;  each  has  a  soul !  The  trees  of  America  have  no  souls." 

"  No,  from  what  I  have  heard  and  seen  of  the  Americans, 
their  trees  have  only  hardwood  centres.  It  is  what  the 
Americans  would  prefer." 

"Not  all,  not  all,"  protested  Yuki.  "I  have  a  friend,  that 
blonde  girl  on  the  hatoba  (wharf),  —  I  have  other  friends  who 
understand  us  strangely.  I  think  in  a  previous  life  they  must 
have  been  Japanese." 

"  Bah !  It  is  but  poor  respect  you  pay  our  country," 
answered  Tetsujo,  half-teasingly.  "Ah,"  he  cried,  catching 
her  arm,  "the  little  gate,  my  child,  — the  pine-tree."  Yuki's 
coolie  had  stopped  without  bidding.  His  face,  too,  wore  the 
smile  of  one  who  loves  and  understands.  The  little  gate  rose 
straight  and  square  in  its  deep  gold  color  of  old  straw,  the 
black  knots  made  fantastic  decoration  along  the  ridge,  the 
pine-tree  stretched  an  arm  of  everlasting  green,  and  over 
the  straight  line  of  the  leaves,  far,  far  out  to  the  West,  hung 


100  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

the  frail  cone  of  Fuji,  like  a  silver  bowl  inverted.  Yuki  did 
not  try  to  speak.  Her  father  and  the  coolie  feasted  also  in 
silence.  In  a  few  moments  the  little  procession,  still  word- 
less, began  again  the  steep  ascent. 

Now  Tetsujo's  eyes  went  to  the  pebbled  ground.  His  next 
remark  seemed  at  first  incongruous.  "  Did  you  see  the 
belching  of  black  smoke,  my  Yuki,  and  did  you  hear  the 
clashing  of  scourged  steel?" 

"Yes,  father,  and  the  smoke  creeps  after  us  like  an  evil 
spirit,  even  to  the  foot  of  Little  Sunshine  Hill." 

"  Nippon  is  soon  to  enter  upon  mortal  struggle  with  a  great 
and  merciless  foe.  All  arts  of  war  and  treachery  will  be  used 
against  us.  We  may  not  survive." 

"  Father,  it  must  not  come,  —  the  gods  must  divert  it !  " 

"Every  samurai  will  give  his  life.  Every  child  and  woman 
of  his  race  will  lie,  self-slain,  in  blood,  before  the  yielding. 
And  yet  defeat  may  be  decreed.  To  be  blind  is  to  be  weak. 
We  must  face  unflinchingly  the  ultimate  horror." 

•"  The  old  gods  must  protect  us  !"  cried  the  girl. 

"  You  are  a  Christian.  The  Christian  gods  will  be  invoked 
to  aid  our  enemies." 

"  Oh,  father,  you  hurt  me !  When  I  wished  to  become  a 
Christian,  like  the  other  girls,  I  wrote  you  many  letters, — 
you  did  not  oppose  it  then." 

"  Neither  do  I  oppose  it  now,"  said  Tetsujo.  "  In  things 
of  religious  faith  each  soul  should  seek  an  individual  path. 
Because  of  your  intelligence  I  allowed  you  to  decide.  But  in 
patriotism,  —  in  loyalty  to  your  native  land, — I  still  have 
responsibility.  Ah,  you  are  my  one  child,  and  most  dearly 
beloved ;  but  if  ever  I  should  see  in  you  one  taint  of  selfish 
swerving,  —  if  I  should  suspect  that  through  the  foreign 
education  the  sinews  of  your  love  were  weak  — " 

Yuki  stopped  him  by  a  gesture.  Her  head  was  proudly 
lifted.  Her  eyes  gleamed,  and  her  thin  nostrils  shook,  —  "  Such 
thoughts  as  these  are  not  to  be  spoken  between  a  samurai  and 
his  child.  My  very  heart  is  knit  of  the  fibres  of  that  word 
'  Nippon.' " 

"You  are  certain,  Yuki  ?  "  Tetsujo's  question  and  his  eyes 
dug  deep. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       101 

Yuki  hesitated  less  than  a  fraction  of  thought.  "  I  am  cer- 
tain," she  said. 

A  silence  rose  between  them.  Yuki's  bright  joyousness  felt 
a  drifting  cloud.  What  did  her  father  mean  ?  Had  Prince 
Hagane  spoken  ill  of  her  ?  The  promise  to  Pierre  gnawed 
like  a  hungry  worm.  She  fought  anew  the  phantoms  of  love 
and  approaching  war.  The  two  laden  jinrikisha  coolies  tugged 
on  with  ostentatious  groans.  The  hand  towels  now  came  into 
requisition  for  the  mopping  of  streaming  brows.  The  road 
began  to  curve  into  a  level  space,  from  which  hedge-bordered 
lanes  radiated.  Again  Tetsujo  spoke. 

"  That  new  American  envoy,  —  he  with  the  nose  of  a  sick 
vulture  and  the  fine  yellow  eye,  —  is  he  favorable  to  us?  Is 
he  one  that  at  all  understands  us  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  my  father,  he  is  of  wonderful  understanding.  He 
and  Baron  Kanrio  are  as  brothers  in  thought.  Did  not  Prince 
Hagane  speak  of  him  ?  " 

Ignoring  the  question,  Tetsujo  went  on.  "  The  younger  of 
the  two  women,  —  that  straw-colored  maiden  who  seems  stand- 
ing on  the  edge  of  a  small  typhoon,  —  she,  I  suppose,  is  the 
school  friend,  the  Miss  Todd,  you  referred  to." 

"Yes,"  answered  Yuki,  a  little  resentfully.  "And  she  is 
considered  beautiful.  I  think  her  augustly  beautiful,  even  as 
Amaterasu,  our  Sun  Goddess." 

"Not  ours.  It  may  be  that  other  nations  have  also  sun 
goddesses,"  said  Tetsujo,  significantly.  "  To  me  all  foreign 
females  are  of  hideous  aspect.  They  look  and  strut  like  fowls. 
And  the  two  young  males,  —  sons  of  Mr.  Todd,  I  take  it,  — 
they  are  as  the  painted  toys  sold  in  temple  booths.  Yet,  if 
the  foreigners  have  been  kind,  it  is  well  to  express  gratitude, 
and  to  send  gifts  as  costly  as  my  purse  will  allow." 

"  The  Todds  are  rich,  —  very,  very  rich,  — even  as  our  great 
silk  merchants,"  cried  Yuki,  in  indignation.  "They  do  not 
want  gifts,  or  expect  them.  It  is  not  an  American  custom. 
Gwendolen,  my  friend,  my  sister,  wishes  only  to  be  with  me, 
freely,  as  we  have  been  for  four  years  past." 

Tetsujo  considered.  "  I  could  not  refuse  you  a  continuance 
of  friendship,  my  child,  though  I  confess  it  will  irk  me  greatly 
to  see  those  strange  creatures  on  my  mats.  After  the  first  few 


102  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

days  of  your  home-coining,  —  in  a  week,  perhaps,  —  you  can 
speak  again  of  this  desire." 

Yuki's  heart  sank.  A  week,  —  and  she  had  promised  to  see 
them  to-morrow,  perhaps  this  afternoon !  She  opened  her 
lips  to  remonstrate,  and  then  thought  better  of  it.  If  he  felt 
it  a  concession  to  admit  Gwendolen,  daughter  of  the  new 
American  minister,  what  would  he  say  to  Pierre?  Deliber- 
ately she  fought  down  the  rising  host  of  apprehensions. 
"  No,"  she  whispered,  "  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  it.  I  must  not 
spoil  my  home-coming  with  uncertain  fears.  I  shall  try  to  be 
untroubled  until  I  can  tell  my  father  all." 

Well  along  the  top  of  the  hill,  Onda  re-entered  his 
kuruma,  and  with  the  word  "  hidari "  (left),  started  the  little 
string  of  vehicles  down  a  path  that  ran  in  wavering  lines 
between  hedges  of  various  growths.  Many  were  of  dwarf 
bamboo  or  sa-sa,  other  of  a  higher  bamboo,  springing  from 
resilient  stems  twenty  feet  in  air.  A  few  were  of  the  small- 
leafed  dodan,  a  bush  which  turns  to  wet  vermilion  with  the 
frost.  Several  were  of  intertwisted  thorn,  a  cruel  and  relent- 
less guardian.  One  showed  a  flat  green  wall  like  that  of 
a  three-story  city  house  jutting  upon  a  pavement;  but  the 
masonry  was  all  of  growth,  rafters  of  thick  stems,  and  facing 
of  the  close-clipped  evergreen  mochi-tree.  The  small  tiled  gate 
jutting  from  the  centre  of  the  lower  edge  seemed  the  entrance 
of  a  cave.  Doubtless  behind  this  imposing  and  misleading 
front  nestled  an  unpretentious  cot,  a  well-sweep,  a  small 
vegetable  and  flower  garden,  and  a  handful  of  old  trees. 

Onda's  gate,  some  hundreds  of  yards  further  to  the  north, 
emerged  in  wooden  simplicity  from  a  sa-sa  hedge.  Along  the 
street  the  bamboo  only  showed.  Within  it  ran  a  line  of  well- 
trained  thorn.  This  fence  was  characteristic  of  the  race  which 
had  planned  it ;  Onda's  father  and  grandfather,  and  many  gen- 
erations before,  had  owned  this  spot  of  ground  in  Yedo. 

Tetsujo,  although  the  first  to  arrive,  remained  in  his  ku- 
ruma, while  Iriya  and  Yuki  made  haste  to  descend.  The 
former  went  at  once  to  the  gate,  pulling  aside  a  thin  wooden 
panel.  A  little  gate-bell  jangled,  and  at  the  musical  summons 
wooden-shod  feet  were  heard,  running  down  the  pathway  from 
the  house.  Old  Suzuine,  shrivelled,  yellow,  her  black  eyes 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       103 

darting  excitement  everywhere,  fell  on  her  knees  in  the  gate- 
way. She  began  immediately  to  mutter  a  jumble  of  ceremoni- 
ous phrases,  in  the  pauses  drawing  her  breath  with  ferocious 
energy.  Behind  her  showed  a  moon-faced  maiden,  who  stared 
first,  as  if  bewildered,  and  then  suddenly  fell  to  the  earth 
beside  Suzume. 

"That  is  sufficient,"  said  Tetsujo,  now  descending  and 
pushing  between  them  as  he  entered  the  gate.  "  Here,  Suzume, 
take  my  purse,  and  let  these  good  rascals  rob  us  as  little  as 
possible.  Go  within,  Maru,  and  prepare  to  remove  the  foreign 
shoes  from  the  feet  of  your  young  mistress." 

Maru,  quaking  like  a  jelly,  as  she  always  did  when  addressed 
directly  by  the  "  august  master,"  obeyed  instantly,  and  knelt 
at  the  stone  house-step  to  receive  the  shoes.  Suzume  unwill- 
ingly remained  at  the  gate  to  haggle  with  the  three  jinrikisha 
men. 

When  the  shoes  were  reverently  drawn  off,  dusted  on  Maru's 
blue  striped  apron,  and  set  side  by  side  on  the  stone  step,  the 
little  handmaid  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
A  moment  later  was  heard  the  scurrying  of  soft  stockinged 
feet  within. 

Yuki  stretched  a  hand  toward  the  closed  shoji. 

"No,  dear,  wait  an  instant,"  said  Iriya,  hurriedly  inter- 
posing. "Let  Maru  San  open  the  shoji.  She  has  been  re- 
hearsing this  for  a  year." 

Yuki  drew  back.  "  I  have  forgotten  so  many  things,"  she 
murmured,  flushing. 

"  They  are  not  lost ;  they  will  spring  quickly  in  the  warm 
rain  of  home  love,"  said  Tetsujo,  behind  them. 

The  shoji  were  sliding  apart,  both  at  once,  with  noiseless 
precision.  In  the  opening  Maru's  globe-like  countenance 
beamed.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  Iriya  performed  the  equiv- 
alent of  an  introduction.  "  Maru  San,"  she  said,  in  her  pleas- 
ant voice,  "this  is  our  o  jo  san  (honorable  young  lady  of  the 
house),  Onda  Yuki-ko,  for  whom  we  have  been  longing." 

"  Hai,  o  jo  san  !  Go  kigen  y 6 !  Irasshai !  "  palpitated  the 
little  servant,  asking  her  to  enter. 

"  I  have  written  you  often  of  Maru,"  Iriya  went  on,  turning 
to  her  daughter. 


104  THE  BREATH   OF   THE  GODS 

Tetsujo  brushed  unceremoniously  through  the  group,  and 
strode  alone  to  the  big  corner  guest-room  at  the  rear. 

"She  is  the  orphaned  child  of  Suzume's  dead  husband's  step- 
son," continued  Iriya,  placidly.  "  About  two  years  ago  she 
was  left  quite  destitute,  so  of  course  her  natural  home  was 
here.  Maru  is  a  good  girl,  and  of  much  help  to  us." 

"  Ah,  Mistress,  Mistress,"  cried  old  Suzume,  nearly  tripping 
on  her  clogs  to  reach  them,  "  you  know  well  that  Maru  is  a 
very  cat  in  the  sun  for  laziness."  The  speaker  struggled  hard 
to  look  severe. 

"  Hai,  hai,"  said  Maru,  in  deprecating  confirmation,  and 
bobbed  over  to  the  matting. 

"Why,  o  jo  san,  in  my  opinion  Maru  is  not  worth  the 
honorable  rice  she  puts  in  her  gluttonous  mouth,"  said 
Suzunie,  on  a  high  note  of  satisfaction.  "  Yet  the  kind  mis- 
tress here,  besides  food  and  occasional  outworn  garments, 
allows  her  sixty  sen  each  month  for  spending.  Ah,  Kwannon 
Sama,  of  divine  compassion,  will  reward  our  mistress  for  her 
kind  heart!" 

Iriya  laughed,  a  merry,  low  laugh,  as  young  as  Yuki's 
own. 

"I  thank  you,  Suzume;  but  do  you  realize  that  the  master 
sits  alone  in  the  zashiki,  with  no  tea,  no  coal,  no  —  "  ? 

"  Do-mo ! "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  and  scrambled  rapidly 
to  her  feet.  "  But  I  become  more  and  more  the  fool  with 
age,  as  a  tree  gathers  lichen.  I  will  attend." 

"  Be  at  leisure,  honorable,  ancient  relative ;  I  will  fetch  the 
tea,"  said  Maru. 

"  No,"  cried  Yuki,  suddenly  stretching  out  a  hand ;  "  I  want 
to  take  it  just  as  I  used  to  as  a  little  girl.  I  think  it  will 
please  my  father.  Let  me  take  it,  Suzume  San ! " 

Maru  paused  with  round,  incredulous  eyes.  "  Ara !  "  cried 
old  Suzume,  scarcely  knowing  whether  she  were  the  more 
pleased  or  astonished.  "  A  fashionable,  wonderful  young  lady, 
educated  in  America,  with  numberless  young  Japanese  noble- 
men waiting  to  marry  her,  —  and  she  wishes  to  bear  the  tray 
like  a  tea-house  musume!  Ma-a-a !  How  strange!  Yet  it 
is  a  good  desire.  The  mistress's  face  shines  with  it.  It  shows 
your  heart  has  not  changed  color,  o  jo  san.  I  will  prepare  at 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       105 

once.  Come,  lazy  fatling !  "  This  last  remark  was  of  course 
addressed  to  Maru. 

In  his  wide,  dim  zashiki,  or  reception-room,  —  analogous  to 
the  drawing-room  of  the  West,  —  Tetsujo  sat  alone.  He  was 
glad  for  a  moment  of  solitude.  His  mind  did  not  move  swiftly 
on  any  subject.  The  bewilderment  of  his  first  vision  of  Yuki, 
changed  from  a  clinging  Japanese  child  to  an  alert,  self- 
possessed  American,  had  not  altogether  passed.  Then  that 
bobbing,  blue-eyed  he-creature  on  the  hatoba,  —  he  had  given 
sour  food  for  thought.  What  language  was  it  that  the  thing 
had  tried  to  speak,  what  wish  to  utter?  Well,  at  least  Yuki 
was  safe  now  among  her  home  people,  away  from  the  influence 
of  all  such  mountebanks.  In  a  few  days  she  would  be  wishing 
to  don  again  her  Japanese  dress,  and  then  he  could  begin  to 
believe  he  had  a  child. 

The  Onda  residence  faced  directly  to  the  north,  thus  giving 
the  big  guest-chamber  and  the  outlying  garden  a  southern  expo- 
sure. Two  sides  of  the  room,  the  south  and  the  west,  had 
removable  shoji.  The  inner  walls  were  partly  of  plaster, 
partly  of  sliding,  opaque  panels  of  gold,  called  fusuma.  These 
were  painted  in  war-like  designs  by  Kano  artists.  To-day  the 
western  shoji  were  all  closed;  but  the  sun,  just  reaching  them, 
shed  a  mellow  tone  of  light  throughout  the  room.  All  south- 
ern shoji  were  out,  admitting,  as  it  were,  the  fine  old  garden  as 
part  of  the  decoration  of  the  room.  The  day  had  deepened  into 
one  of  those  quite  common  to  the  Tokio  winter,  where  the 
sunshine  battles  with  a  white  glamour,  scarcely  to  be  called 
mist,  and  yet  with  the  softening  tone  of  it.  No  young  spring 
growth  was  waking  in  the  garden.  All  was  sombre-green, 
ochre,  or  cold  gray,  —  pines  and  evergreen  azaleas,  heaped 
rocks,  stone  lanterns,  bridge,  and  the  pear-shaped  water  of  a 
pond.  In  line  and  structure  the  garden  was  still  a  thing  of 
beauty,  planned  in  an  artist's  mind.  It  had  the  look  of  a 
stained-glass  window  done  in  faded  hues,  of  old  tapestry,  of 
wrought  metal.  At  the  corner  of  the  guest-room  veranda 
stood  a  huge  old  plum-tree  just  coming  into  white  bloom. 

Smiling  Yuki,  in  tailor-made  American  gown  and  black 
stockings,  brought  in  the  tray  and  knelt  before  her  father. 
The  old  warrior  flushed  with  pleasure.  "  Why,  this  is 
better  than  I  could  have  thought ! " 


106  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"I  told  you  I  was  just  your  little  girl,"  said  Yuki.  "And 
oh,  father,  I  do  feel  so  queerly  young  and  real  again !  I  see 
everything  around  me  just  as  I  wish.  It  is  like  making  things 
come  true  in  dreams."  Tetsujo  caught  her  by  a  slender 
shoulder,  looking  deep,  deep  into  answering  eyes.  For  once, 
no  troubled  thoughts  rose  to  blur  the  vision.  Suddenly  he 
smiled.  "  Then  make  my  dream  come  true,  my  Yuki ;  remove 
the  shapeless  foreign  garment." 

Yuki  sprang  to  her  feet,  laughing  with  delight.  "Yes, 
yes,  that  is  the  next  real  thing  to  do,  of  course.  I  will  borrow 
a  kimono  from  mother,  as  my  trunks  have  not  arrived.  But 
don't  let  them-bring  in  dinner  till  I  get  back.  I  am  so  hungry 
for  a  real  dinner ! " 

"  The  soup  shall  not  even  be  poured,"  promised  Tetsujo. 
She  gave  a  little  bow  like  the  dart  of  a  humming-bird,  and 
would  have  sped  past  him,  but  he,  catching  at  a  fold  of  her 
skirt,  detained  her.  She  stopped,  and  seeing  the  expression 
of  his  face,  her  own  sobered.  "  Welcome,  my  daughter," 
said  Tetsujo,  in  a  tone  that  trembled ;  "  welcome,  child  of  my 
ancestors,  —  the  last  of  an  honorable  race !  " 


CHAPTER  NINE 

NEXT  to  the  zashiki,  or  guest-room,  around  by  the  corner  of 
the  big  plum-tree  on  which,  now,  great  snowy  pearls  of  buds 
opened  with  every  hour,  was  the  master's  benkyo-beya,  or  study, 
where  sets  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  classics,  often  running 
into  a  hundred  volumes,  had  snug  place  in  fragrant  cabinets 
of  unvarnished  cypress  wood. 

Contiguous  to  this,  along  the  western  side,  and  bounded 
ten  feet  farther  by  the  fusuma  of  her  parents'  chamber,  Yuki's 
little  sleeping-room  was  tucked  away.  The  stately  garden, 
curving  around  by  the  plum-tree,  spread  here  wider  paths  and 
less  pretentious  hillocks.  Just  in  front  of  Yuki's  shoji  and  the 
narrow  verapda  which  ran  unchecked  along  the  south  and  west 
of  the  house,  two  sedate  gray  stones  led  into  a  gravelled  space. 
Here  were  flower-beds  somewhat  in  foreign  fashion,  but  with- 
out bordering  plants  or  bricks.  Many  of  the  small  bushes 
were  resultant  from  seed-packets  mailed  by  Yuki  in  Washing- 
ton. Imported  pansies,  alyssum,  geraniums,  marigolds,  and 
ragged-robins  grew  here  in  springtime  in  friendly  proximity 
to  indigenous  asters,  columbine,  pinks,  and  small  ground- 
orchids.  These  flower  spaces  were  now  vacant  but  for  tiny 
springing  communities  of  chrysanthemum  shoots,  bare  stems 
of  peony  with  swollen  red  buds  at  the  tip,  and  a  few  indis- 
pensable small  pines.  Beyond  it  all  was  the  tall  hedge  of  sa-sa 
shutting  out  the  street,  and  its  ugly  inner  rind  of  thorn. 

The  eastern  side  of  the  house  contained,  so  to  speak,  its  ex- 
ecutive offices,  dining-room,  servants'  quarters,  pantry,  kitchen, 
and  well-shed.  Along  this  portion  (except  by  the  kitchen, 
which  stepped  down  unaided  to  a  bare  earth  floor)  strips  of 
narrow  veranda  and  convenient  stepping-stones  led  into  a 
vegetable  garden,  small  wood-yard,  and  strawberry  patch. 
The  longest  bit  of  veranda  had  the  dignity  of  a  rail,  —  a 


108  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

mere  upright  strip  of  board,  edged  heavily  on  top  with  bam- 
boo, and  pierced  with  openings  cut  into  the  shapes  of  swallows. 

It  was  here,  the  morning  after  Yuki's  arrival,  that  the 
women  of  the  household  were  to  be  found.  Suzume  chattered 
incessantly  as  she  washed  the  breakfast-dishes  and  passed 
inward  to  arrange  them  on  the  pantry  shelves.  Little  Maru 
San,  a  few  feet  away,  out  in  the  sunshine  of  the  garden, 
scrubbed  at  pieces  of  a  ripped-up  kimono  in  a  tub  that  stood 
high  on  its  own  three  legs.  Afterward  she  rinsed  the  bits  and 
spread  them  smoothly  to  dry  on  a  board.  The  tailless  white 
cat,  disdainfully  satiate  after  a  meal  of  tea,  rice,  and  fish-bones, 
curled  itself  up  in  a  fork  of  the  bare  persimmon-tree  to  sleep. 
Maru's  favorite  bantam  cock,  followed  at  a  respectful  distance 
by  two  wives  and  an  unidentified  black  chick,  sauntered  along 
the  kitchen  drain,  his  yellow  eye  slanted  for  a  swimming  flake 
of  white.  The  clear,  windless  air  had  a  smell  of  new-washed 
leaves  and  of  foreign  violets.  Yuki's  heart  stirred  with  the 
deep  homeliness  of  it  all.  Iriya,  noting  her  expression, 
asked  brightly,  "Is  my  dear  one  just  a  little  happy  to  be  at 
home?" 

"  No,  mother,  not  a  little  happy,  but  very,  very  happy.  It 
has  been  a  long  time." 

Iriya  was  hanging  out  a  bed-quilt  of  plaid  silk,  the  squares 
three  feet  across  and  of  superb  coloring.  "Yes,"  she  re- 
peated, "  it  has  been  a  long  time." 

"Why  did  you  let  me  go  at  all? "  cried  Yuki,  passionately. 
"I  was  your  only  one.  You  must  have  missed  me  sorely. 
Sometimes  I  feel  that  I  never  should  have  gone." 

"Hush,  my  jewel."  Iriya  gave  an  apprehensive  glance 
toward  the  other  side  of  the  house.  "  Say  not  such  words 
where  the  kind  father  may  hear.  He  was  so  proud  of  you.  It 
was  his  dearest  wish,  and  Lord  Hagane,  our  daimyo,  advised 
it  also.  You  see,  we  had  no  son,  and  Tetsujo  was  not  willing 
to  give  me  up  that  another  wife  might  bring  this  hope  to  pass. 
He  has  been  a  good  master  to  me,  has  Onda  Tetsujo." 

A  glow  of  loving  pride  softened  the  regret  that  this  thought 
of  the  son,  that  had  not  been  given,  always  brought  to  her. 

Suzume  looked  up  from  her  dish-tub,  wrinkling  with  shrewd 
smiles.  "You  have  no  son  —  but  what  of  it  ?  Some  day  you 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       109 

will  have  a  grand  son-in-law,  a  young  prince,  maybe.  Yuki-ko 
will  make  a  marriage  to  bring  glory  to  us  all." 

Yuki  drooped  her  head.  "  I  don't  want  to  think  of  marriage 
yet.  I  just  want  to  stay  here  in  this  precious  home  and  try  to 
win  back  some  of  those  four  long  years  which  I  have  lost." 

"  But  you  are  nineteen,  Miss  Yuki,  —  nearer  twenty,  in 
fact.  A  terrible  age  for  a  young  lady  of  rank  to  be  caught 
single." 

"  I  wish  it  could  be  as  you  wish,  my  Yuki,"  sighed  Iriya. 
"But,  as  Suzume  says,  you  are  nearing  twenty.  I  pray  the 
gods  that  my  sou-in-law  may  not  be  of  too  exalted  station  to 
receive  adoption  into  this  family,  instead  of  your  being  ab- 
sorbed into  his.  That  would  be  the  greatest  joy  life  holds  for 
me.  But,  alas  !  I  am  a  selfish,  talkative  old  woman  to  let  such 
thoughts  escape.  I  should  wish  your  marriage  to  be  only  that 
which  may  possibly  serve  your  country  and  repay  your  father 
for  his  sacrifices." 

Yuki  lifted  a  small  queer  look.  "In  America,  where  my 
father  sent  me,  I  was  taught,  in  the  matter  of  marriage,  to  do 
some  of  the  thinking  myself." 

Iriya  caught  her  breath.  Suzume  stopped  washing  to 
stare.  Maru,  looking  up  with  her  round  mouth  formed  for  a 
"Ma-a-a!"  jostled  the  tub  in  her  excitement.  It  went  over 
with  a  "  swash."  The  soapy  water,  with  drifting  islands  of 
blue  cloth,  flowed  out  swiftly,  carrying  the  pompous  bantam 
and  his  family  on  the  unexpected  tide.  The  cat  opened  one 
green  eye,  then  the  other. 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  Iriya,  quickly,  to  Yuki,  "  condescend 
to  bear  me  company  to  the  guest-chamber.  I  have  the  flowers 
to  arrange.  Perhaps,  in  America,  you  have  learned  some  new 
and  beautiful  composition." 

Yuki's  queer  look  deepened  into  a  naughty  little  laugh  and 
shrug  as  she  turned  to  obey.  She  knew  perfectly  why  her 
mother  wished  to  get  her  from  the  hearing  of  Suzume  and 
Maru.  Tokio  is  not  free  from  gossip,  and,  though  Suzume 
was  devoted  to  the  family  she  served,  she  dearly  loved  the 
start,  the  incredulity,  the  deepening  interest  of  a  listener's 
face. 

To  her  mother's  last  suggestion  Yuki  replied,  "  I  fear  not, 


110  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

mother.  The  only  idea  of  arrangement  they  have  in  America 
is  to  get  many  different  flowers  together,  chop  them  to  the 
same  length  of  stem,  and  push  them  down  evenly  into  a  shape- 
less vase  with  other  flowers  painted  on  the  sides." 

"  Ah,"  said  Iriya,  crestfallen  and  surprised,  "  we  shall  not 
then  adopt  the  foreign  arrangement." 

The  mother  and  daughter  clasped  hands,  swinging  them  as 
children  do,  and  moved  along  the  narrow  veranda.  They 
were  now  skirting  the  closed  shoji  of  the  dining-room.  In 
turning  the  corner,  the  plum-tree  came  into  full  sight.  A 
hundred  blossoms  must  have  opened  since  the  dawn.  Yuki 
broke  from  her  mother  with  a  cry,  ran  to  the  tree,  and  threw 
her  arms  about  the  great  trunk.  "  Oh,  you  are  the  most  beau- 
tiful tree  in  the  whole  world !  "  she  said  aloud,  and  looked  with 
adoration  up  into  its  shining  branches. 

As  Iriya  reached  her,  she  lowered  her  gaze.  "  Do  you  re- 
member, mother,  that  morning  four  years  ago,  when  I  went 
away,  how  I  clung  to  this  tree  last  of  all,  sobbing  from  my 
heart  the  poem  that  my  father  taught  me  ?  — 

"  Though  bereft  and  poor, 

I  in  exile  wandering 
Far  on  mount  and  moor, 
Happy  plum  beside  my  door, 
Oh,  forget  not  thou  the  spring." 

"  I  remember  well,"  said  Iriya,  and  drew  her  daughter's 
outstretched  hand  to  her  cheek. 

Something  shone  suddenly  in  Yuki's  eyes.  "  And  I  wept  so 
passionately  that  father,  half  in  tears  himself,  came  and  en- 
treated me  to  cease.  He  said  that  if  I  shed  more  tears  upon 
it,  his  tree,  like  that  of  Michizane,  might  rise  through  the  air 
and  follow  me  to  exile." 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Iriya ;  "  often  have  I  recalled  it  in  the  time 
of  spring,  standing  under  this  tree  alone." 

"  It  really  did  follow  me  after  all,  you  know,"  the  girl  went 
on  shyly.  "It  came  at  night, in  dreams,  when  you  and  father 
could  not  miss  it.  Did  it  ever  fail  to  return  before  the 
dawn  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  Iriya,  with  deep  gravity.  "  The  dear  tree 
loves  us  also.  Never  once  did  it  fail  to  return." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       111 

Tetsujo  strode  toward  them  from  his  study.  "How  can  one 
ponder  on  the  classics,  with  pigeons  cooing  beneath  his  very 
eaves  ?  " 

Yuki  clung  to  him.  "You  had  the  classics  for  four  long 
years  when  I  was  away." 

"So  had  I  water  through  those  four  long  years,  small 
pigeon, — yet  while  I  live  must  I  thirst.  The  classics  feed 
deep  wells  of  the  soul." 

He  put  a  strong,  loving  hand  about  her,  and  drew  her  near. 
It  sprang  into  Yuki's  mind  to  speak  now  of  her  foreign 
friends,  to  ask  permission  to  visit  them  or,  at  least,  to  send 
them  her  Tokio  address.  Pierre's  beautiful  face  and  blue 
eyes  reproached  her.  But  this  moment  was  too  sweet  for 
jeopardy.  She  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  rough  blue  cot- 
ton of  her  father's  shoulder.  Iriya,  stealing  nearer,  put  also 
a  loving  arm  about  the  girl.  The  sunshine  made  a  halo  for 
the  three.  The  plum,  loosening  its  first  petals,  sent  them 
down  in  fragrant  benediction. 

So  her  day  passed,  a  wonderful  day,  steeped  in  love  and 
childish  recollections.  At  night,  the  winds  being  chill,  and 
the  fear  of  robbers  inherent  in  the  Japanese  mind,  all  shoji, 
and  after  them  the  wooden  storm  panels  (amado),  were  tightly 
drawn.  In  the  ashes  of  the  great  brass  hibachi  balls  of  char- 
coal glowed  like  incandescent  apples.  A  lamp  was  suspended 
from  the  ceiling,  swinging  but  a  few  feet  above  their  heads. 
Here  the  four  women  of  the  household  grouped  themselves. 
Tetsujo  had 'gone  out  for  a  call.  The  pieces  of  kimono,  ripped 
and  washed  that  morning  by  Maru  San,  were  now  to  be  re- 
fashioned. Iriya,  Suzuine,  and  Maru  drew  forth  little  sewing- 
boxes  and  prepared  for  work.  Yuki,  half  sitting,  half  lying 
on  the  floor,  fondled  the  tailless  cat,  and  declared  boldly  that 
she  hated  sewing  and  was  not  going  to  begin  that  part  of  a 
Japanese  woman's  drudgery  quite  so  early. 

"  All  good  wives  love  sewing,  particularly  on  the  master's 
nightclothes,"  said  Suzume,  reprovingly,  and  peering  over  the 
rim  of  huge  horn  spectacles  toward  the  culprit. 

"  The  o  jo  san  will  tell  us  something  of  foreign  habits  as 
we  sew,"  suggested  Iriya,  the  peacemaker. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  I  will  be  what  is  called  over  there  the 


112  THE   BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

bureau  of  information,"  laughed  wilful  Yuki.  "Any  ques- 
tions from  you,  Mr.  Cat  ? "  she  cried,  holding  the  drowsy 
animal  high  above  her  and  smiling  into  its  blinking  eyes.  — 
"  Do  American  cats  like  rice  ? "  "  No."  "  Queer  cats,  you 
say,  —  and  so  they  think  of  you."  "  Do  they  wear  tails  ?  " 
"Yes,  long  ones."  "What  do  they  use  them  for?"  "For 
getting  pinched  in  doors."  "No  more  questions,  Pussy  San? 
Ah,  you  will  never  learn.  Kuskin  says  that  curiosity  forms 
tendrils  of  the  mind." 

"  What  I  would  like  to  feel  sure  of,  honorable  young  lady, 
is  this,"  began  Suzume,  primly,  with  a  disapproving  glance 
toward  the  cat. 

"We  are  ready,  Madame  Suzume,  speak  on,"  said  Yuki, 
cuddling  pussy  back  into  her  sleeve. 

"Is  it  really  true,  as  newspapers  and  pictures  say,  that 
women  over  there,  even  women  of  decent  character,  go  to 
evening  entertainments  with  no  clothes  above  the  waist,  dance 
with  red-faced  men  until  they  are  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy, 
and  then  have  to  be  restored  by  much  fanning  and  a  cold 
medicine  called  '  punch '  ?  " 

"  Not  altogether,  good  nurse,"  said  Yuki,  fighting  hard  to 
retain  a  semblance  of  gravity.  "  They  wear  cloth  and  flowers, 
feathers  and  jewelry  above  the  waist,  and  arrange  them 
with  great  beauty;  but  it  is  true  that  they  dance  with  men, 
and  that  their  shoulders  and  arms  are  bare." 

"That  is  a  strange  custom,"  mused  Suzume.  "Even  our 
Sacred  Empress  condescends  to  go  with  bare  arms.  Why, 
I  wonder,  do  they  wish  to  expose  arms  more  than  legs  ? 
There  is  more  leg,  and  in  a  supple  young  girl  it  is  more 
shapely." 

"  That  is  too  hard  a  thing  for  me,"  laughed  Yuki.  "  Well, 
Maru,  your  eyes  are  big  and  solemn  like  the  Owl  San  in  our 
pine.  What  is  your  question  ?  " 

Maru,  after  much  giggling  and  blushing,  confessed  to  a  desire 
to  know,  once  for  all,  whether  foreigners  had  toes  like  real 
people,  or  whether,  as  she  had  been  assured  from  childhood, 
they  possessed  but  a  single  horny  hoof,  which,  from  desire  to 
hide  the  ugliness,  they  kept  in  pointed  leather  cases  known 
as  shoes. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       113 

"  That  is  false  entirely.  I  have  seen  hundreds  of  barefoot 
children  in  America,  and  they  all  had  ten  toes,  even  as  we." 

Maru  seemed  cast  down.  "  Ma-a-a  !  what  foolish  tales  are 
spread,"  she  murmured.  "  Doubtless  the  foreigners  have 
similar  strange  beliefs  of  us." 

"  It  is  what  the  great  creatures  eat  that  turns  me  sick,"  cried 
old  Suzume,  and  nearly  perforated  a  finger  in  her  vehemence. 
"  Their  soup  is  like  the  contents  of  a  slop-bucket,  with  warm 
grease  swimming  on  the  top.  The  stuff  would  choke  in  a  de- 
cent person's  throat.  And  then  the  great  heaps  of  animal 
flesh,  —  and  greasy  vegetables,  and  implements  like  gardener's 
tools  to  eat  them  with !  And  then  —  Kwannon  preserve  us 
—  the  unspeakable  nightmares  that  come  even  after  the  tasting 
of  such  food  ! " 

"  Ara !  "  cried  the  maid,  roused  to  new  excitement  by  this 
recital  of  horror,  "  it  is  said  that  America  is  an  honorably 
highly  civilized  country,  and  Nippon  merely  a  divine  half- 
civilized  country,  but  I  thank  the  gods  who  have  given  me  to 
live  in  this  half-civilized  country." 

At  bedtime,  Yuki,  creeping  between  soft,  fragrant  futons, 
drew  a  deep  sigh  of  childish  content.  The  andon  in  the  cor- 
ner, shedding  its  gentle,  paper-screened  light,  continued  the 
impression  of  sunshine.  The  girl  smiled  to  find  herself  again 
counting  the  lapped  cedar  boards  of  the  ceiling,  "  Hitotsu  — 
f utatsu  —  mitsu  —  yotsu  —  "  following  them  into  uncertain 
dimness  at  the  far  end  of  the  chamber.  As  in  childhood  she 
speculated  upon  the  possibilities  of  that  small  black  knot-hole 
left  vacant  in  the  wood.  How  much  smaller  now  it  was  than 
four  years  ago  !  Still  there  was  a  chance,  a  pygmy  probability, 
that  a  very  small  nedzumi  might  creep  through,  and,  falling  to 
the  floor,  scamper  over  mats  and  bedding,  and  —  here  came 
the  shudder  !  —  over  the  very  face  of  a  sleeper.  She  drew  the 
bedclothes  up  spasmodically,  then  smiled  to  think  how  bright 
would  be  the  eyes  of  the  little  mouse,  twinkling  in  semi-dark- 
ness. In  a  moment  more,  with  the  smile  still  on  her  lips,  she 
was  asleep. 

So  a  second  day  passed,  and  a  third,  —  hushed,  golden  days, 
too  precious  to  be  imperilled.  With  the  fourth  morning, 

8 


114  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Sunday,  caine  a  change.  In  the  night  a  storm  had  risen, 
sweeping  down  from  Kamschatka  along  the  Yezo  coast  to  the 
wide  unsheltered  plain  of  Yedo.  Here  it  wallowed  like  a 
great  beast  in  a  field,  snorting  with  fury,  crushing  trees,  fences, 
and  houses,  and  fighting  back  the  black  clouds  that  would 
have  crowded  in  upon  it. 

Through  Yuki's  troubled  sleep  came  the  sounds  of  vehicles 
rattling  on  foreign  streets,  and  the  blurred  chime  of  church- 
bells.  Her  first  conscious  thought  was,  "  It  is  Sunday. 
Gwendolen  and  I  must  be  sure  to  go  to  service." 

The  wooden  amado  of  the  house  chattered  with  fright.  The 
wind  gave  long,  derisive  howls  as  it  swept  under  the  low- 
hanging  roof,  clutched  and  shook  the  rafters,  and  then  darted 
out  to  the  heart  of  the  storm  once  more.  Yuki  realized  slowly 
that  she  was  not  in  America  at  all,  that  she  was  at  home,  in 
Tokio.  With  a  slower,  heavier  recognition  came  the  knowl- 
edge that  her  friend  Gwendolen  was  here  also,  and  if  she  were 
in  Washington  could  not  seem  more  remote. 

She  heard  old  Suzume  and  Maru  straining  to  open  the 
amado,  then  Tetsujo's  voice  calling  loudly  from  his  chamber, 
"  Keep  them  all  shut  on  the  eastern  side  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  plum-tree !  It  will  be  torn  like  mist,"  said 
the  girl  aloud.  She  sat  upright,  patting  instinctively  the 
loops  of  her  hair,  dressed  now  in  Japanese  fashion.  The 
floating  wick  of  her  andon  fell  over  the  edge  of  the  saucer  and 
went  out,  leaving  the  room  in  grayer  darkness.  The  foreign 
clock  that  hung  in  the  kitchen  rang  out  the  hour  of  seven. 
"  What  gloom  !  The  storm  must  be  terrible  indeed  ! "  A 
moment  after  the  girl  said,  with  a  shudder,  "  This  is  the  day 
on  which  I  am  to  speak  of  my  love.  I  hear  his  voice  calling 
through  the  wind.  I  must  wait  no  longer.  Yes,  I  will  speak 
to-day." 

At  breakfast  the  small  family  of  three  was  silent  and  pre- 
occupied. The  one  glimpse  they  had  taken  of  the  shivering, 
naked  plum-tree  would  have  sufficiently  accounted  for  the 
depression.  Iriya  and  Yuki  sat  a  little  behind  the  master, 
eating  from  their  small  rice-bowls,  and  attending  in  turn 
upon  his  wants.  As  Suzume  crept  in  to  remove  the  half- 
emptied  dishes,  Yuki  said  to  her  father,  "Father,  a  little 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       115 

later,  when  you  have  smoked  and  read  your  paper,  may  I 
speak  with  you?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  my  child,"  said  Tetsujo,  kindly,  looking 
up  from  the  damp  printed  sheet  he  had  already  unfurled; 
"  though  I  may  have  but  few  thoughts  apart  from  this  terrible 
storm." 

"  It  is  a  terrible  storm,"  shuddered  Iriya.  "  A  great  cam- 
phor-tree in  the  Zen  Temple  garden  has  fallen.  It  was  a 
goblin-tree,  and  the  priests  fear  evil." 

"  I  spoke  not  of  the  storm  in  the  material  universe,  but  of 
that  vast  political  tempest  brewing  over  us.  Our  minister 
leaves  St.  Petersburg  to-morrow.  War  has  practically  come." 

No  comment  was  made.  The  three  tacitly  avoided,  each, 
the  glance  of  the  other.  Iriya  rose  quietly,  then  Yuki.  In 
the  door-frame  the  girl  paused.  "I  shall  return  in  half  an 
hour,  father." 

Tetsujo  nodded.    "  I  shall  be  here." 

In  her  own  room  Yuki  moved  about  mechanically,  putting 
into  place  her  few  indispensable  possessions,  — a  silver  brush, 
comb,  and  hand-glass,  her  white  prayer-book  and  neat  Bible,  a 
picture  of  Gwendolen  in  a  burnt-leather  frame,  and  a  lacquered 
box  containing  a  second  photograph,  not  of  Gwendolen,  and 
a  package  of  letters,  all  addressed  in  the  same  hand.  She 
fought  to  keep  her  imagination  from  the  coming  war.  Its 
dark  omen  only  strengthened  her  determination  to  have 
things  understood.  She  prayed  for  strength  and  self-control. 
Punctual  to  the  moment  she  entered  the  guest-room,  bowing 
again  to  her  father.  He  looked  up  from  his  brooding  revery. 
Something  in  the  girl's  face  made  him  ask,  "Ah,  have  you 
indeed  a  matter  of  importance  ?  My  little  Yuki  has  gone. 
This  is  a  woman  who  comes  to  speak  with  me." 

"  Alas,  father.  Childhood,  like  the  petals  of  the  plum-tree, 
vanishes  at  the  breath  of  storms." 

"What  storm  can  have  found  you  so  early,  my  little  one?" 

Yuki  drew  in  a  long  breath,  and  steadied  herself  for  a  delib- 
erate reply.  In  the  pause  Tetsujo  leaned  out,  and  with  one 
motion  of  his  powerful  hand  flung  a  panel  of  the  shoji  to  one 
side,  giving  a  view  of  the  drenched  and  storm-tormented 
garden.  On  the  veranda  floor,  usually  so  smooth,  beaten 


116  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

plum-petals  clung  like  bits  of  white  leather.     The  drip  from  the 
low-tiled  roof  enclosed  them  in  the  bars  of  a  silver  cage. 

"  This  is  my  distress,  father,"  began  Yuki.  "I  am  a  Japa- 
nese girl,  with  my  first  loyalty  toward  you  and  my  native 
country; — yet,  in  that  new  land  where  you  sent  me, — I 
have  come  —  I  have  grown  honorably  to  feel,  almost  without 
warning,  the  —  influence  of  a  —  person." 

Tetsujo  looked  faintly  surprised.  "  Indeed,  I  trust  so,  my 
child.  You  would  be  but  a  poor,  unresponsive  creature  to 
have  felt  no  influences.  It  is  from  such  things  that  character 
and  knowledge  are  builded.  There  were  many  persons  who 
influenced  you,  I  take  it,  —  some  for  good,  perhaps  some  for 
evil.  To  an  intelligent  mind  a  warning  is  valuable.  Now,  at 
home,  you  will  have  the  leisure  to  sort  and  adapt  such  impres- 
sions, casting  away  those  that  are  trivial  and  employing  those 
which  may  be  of  service  to  Japan." 

"It  is  augustly  as  you  indicate,  dear  father,"  returned 
Yuki,  the  distress  in  her  dark  eyes  deepening.  "  I  attempted 
to  observe  many  things.  But  the  influence  I  spoke  of  is  not 
that  kind  you  are  thinking.  It  —  it  —  is  a  very  special  influ- 
ence. In  America  they  call  it  —  love."  She  bowed  her 
head  over  slightly.  A  faint  pink  tide  of  embarrassment 
showed  on  her  forehead  and  in  the  small  bared  triangle  of 
her  throat. 

Tetsujo  controlled  himself  well.  "You  mean  —  love  — 
<ai '  -—  the  love  of  a  man  and  a  woman  who  wish  to  marry?  " 

"  In  America  one  thinks  very  differently  of  such  matters," 
said  Yuki,  her  eyes  still  lowered.  "  Yet  I  suppose  the  feeling 
is  honorably  the  same  everywhere.  Yes,  father,  it  is  of  such 
love  that  I  now  must  tell  you." 

"  We  have  many  Japanese  terms  for  Love,"  mused  Tetsujo. 
"  Love  of  country,  of  Our  Emperor,  of  parents,  of  beauty,  of 
virtue,  —  but  the  term  which  you  now  employ  should  not  be 
spoken  by  a  samurai  to  a  woman  not  his  wife.  You  pay  a 
high  price  for  Western  knowledge,  my  poor  child,  if  already 
the  dew-breath  of  modesty  has  dried  from  your  young  life." 

"Father,"  she  pleaded,  "I  am  still  a  Japanese.  I  know 
how  it  must  seem  to  you.  I  suffer  in  the  speaking,  but  still 
I  must  speak.  I  promised.  I  must  speak." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       117 

"  You  promised  ?  "  echoed  Tetsujo,  and  looked  more  keenly 
into  her  shrinking  face.  "  To  whom  could  you  have  promised 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  To  him  —  that  one  —  I  first  alluded  to."  She  did  not 
attempt  now  to  meet  his  eyes,  but  fingered  nervously  along 
the  edge  of  her  sleeve. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  in  that  country  unmarried  youths 
speak  in  unmannerly  directness  to  young  women  of  such  in- 
timate affairs  ?  I  had  heard  a  hint  of  this  unbelievable 
indelicacy,  and  once  your  mother,  Iriya,  hinted  that  we 
should  warn  you.  But  I  scoffed  then  at  the  thought  of  your 
needing  the  admonition.  Alas  !  being  a  woman,  she  knew  you 
better  than  I." 

His  head  sank  forward.  Yuki  twisted  her  slim  hands  into 
wisps.  "  In  America  all  speak  of  these  things,  father.  They 
think  us  immodest  for  other  reasons,  and  foolishly  sensitive 
in  this.  The  schoolgirls  talk  —  and  the  matrons.  All 
theatres  treat  of  it  —  and  books  are  full  of  it.  You  sent  me 
no  warning  —  I  could  not  know,  of  myself.  Please,  honorably, 
restrain  anger  against  me." 

"  I  must  not  be  angry,"  muttered  Tetsujo,  who  now  gave 
every  symptom  of  a  rising  storm  of  wrath.  "  I  must  be 
calm.  But  gods!  this  is  a  foul  spectre  to  meet  at  the  very 
outset !  Am  I  to  understand  that  this  man  —  this  person 
—  spoke  directly  to  you,  and  you  listened  without  first  re- 
ceiving permission  from  your  parents  ?  He  could  have  gone, 
at  least,  to  my  friend,  and  my  country's  representative,  Baron 
Kanrio." 

"Father,  father,"  cried  the  girl,  "you  are  becoming  angry. 
I  did  not  have  the  time  to  reflect.  In  America  one  does  things 
first  and  thinks  about  them  afterward.  I  am  not  sure  that 
person  ever  has  even  met  —  our  noble  baron." 

If  she  hoped  to  palliate  by  this  last  disclosure  she  was 
quickly  undeceived.  "The  gamester  —  the  oaf!  Insolent 
fool !  An  impostor  unknown  even  by  sight  to  your  natural 
guardian  in  a  distant  land!  He  must  be  an  alien!  No 
Japanese  —  not  even  a  Yedo  scavenger  —  could  have  been 
guilty  of  that  misdeed  !  " 

"  But  he  spoke  quite  openly  to  my  best  American  friends, 


118  THE  BREATH.  OF  THE  GODS 

the  Todds,"  said  Yuki,  desperately.  Tetsujo's  rising  excite- 
ment and  anger  lapped  like  flames  about  this  new  thought. 

"  And  that  Mr.  Todd,  now  corne  to  be  minister  in  our 
very  home,  —  did  he  encourage  your  filial  impiety?" 

"  It  was  not  so  much  Mr.  Todd  as  Madame,  his  wife,  and  my 
schoolmate,  Gwendolen,"  admitted  Yuki,  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"Ah,  I  might  have  known  it,"  said  Tetsujo.  His  relief 
was  evident.  "Only  women!  Mere  cackling  geese.  America 
echoes  to  their  shrill  voices.  That  is  of  no  consequence." 

"  III  that  country  women  are  of  much  consequence,  and 
everyone  speaks  openly  of  affairs  of  love  and  —  marriage," 
persisted  Yuki,  who  now  clung  half  hopelessly  to  this  one 
tangible  point. 

"  And  you  yourself  —  ingrate  —  would  willingly  bestow 
yourself,  without  a  word  from  me  or  your  mother,  upon  a 
man  who  is  a  stranger,  and  whose  conduct,  heard  from  your 
partial  lips,  impresses  me  as  characteristic  of  a  fool  and  an 
outcast  ?  " 

His  brows  were  black  and  twitching.  Yuki  knew  that  she 
must  take  her  stand  now  or  never.  "  You  see  only  the  side 
of  Japanese  convention,  father.  I  have  given  to  him  a  prom- 
ise. When  your  consent  and  that  of  my  mother  are  gained,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  be  his  wife." 

Tetsujo  started  convulsively,  then  controlled  himself.  The 
sudden  checking  in  of  passion  recoiled  through  the  very  air. 
With  rigid  hands  he  stuffed  and  lighted  his  small  pipe.  When 
he  spoke  his  voice  sounded  flat  and  hollow,  like  beaten  wood. 

"  Such  a  promise,  unratified  by  me,  of  course  means  nothing, 
unless  —  it  be  defiance  of  heaven  and  of  natural  decency. 
It  binds  no  one  — you  least  of  all.  Consider  it  unsaid." 

Yuki  looked  directly  upon  him.  Her  soft  feminine  chin 
grew  a  little  squarer,  more  like  his.  "  That  promise  is  given, 
father.  Neither  you  nor  I  have  power  to  recall  it.  It  has 
gained  a  living  growth  in  the  soul  of  a  third  person."  She 
turned  half-closed  eyes  to  the  garden.  Tetsujo  went  forward 
in  two  small  stiff  jerks.  His  eyes  fastened  on  her  face,  as 
though  he  saw  it  for  the  first  time.  Veins  swelled  in  his 
neck,  and  the  fingers  on  his  small  pipe-stem  grew  slowly  flat, 
like  the  heads  of  adders. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       119 

"Is  that  you  speaking,  Onda  Yuki?"  he  asked.  "The 
gods  grant  that  I  wake  from  this  dream !  But  if  it  be  reality, 
then  sorrow  is  to  come.  If  this  man  be  a  foreigner,  let  him 
stay  in  his  own  land !  You  are  mine  utterly,  —  at  my  disposal 
in  marriage  as  in  all  else.  There  are  ways,  in  Japan,  to  curb 
such  mad  demons  as  those  that  now  look  at  me  through  your 
eyes.  Go !  leave  me.  I  shall  hear  no  more  of  this,  —  or  else 
it  may  be  that  I  shall  forget  my  fatherhood,  as  you  your 
obligations.  Go ! " 

"  Father,"  said  Yuki,  quietly,  "  you  must  hear  more  of  this 
or  drive  me  from  the  house.  You  owe  me  consideration  and 
justice  ;  for  the  ideas  that  I  have,  you  yourself  sent  me  to 
America  to  gain.  You  even  let  me  be  a  Christian.  With  the 
Christians  marriage  is  a  sacred  thing  —  " 

"  Be  still !  "  said  Tetsujo,  in  a  terrible,  low  voice.  His  pipe 
dropped  to  the  floor.  The  coal  burrowed  itself,  a  charred  and 
smoking  ring,  into  the  fragrant  matting.  The  odor  was  that 
of  field-grass  burning.  The  man  rocked  himself  to  and  fro 
for  control.  His  lean,  hands  plunged  deep  into  his  sleeves, 
and  grasped,  one  each,  a  jerking  arm.  He  was  terrified  at  his 
own  obsession  of  fury,  and  his  soul  warned  him  against  a 
yielding  to  his  madness.  His  greenish  twisted  lips  writhed 
horribly  once  or  twice  before  the  next  words  came.  One 
corner  of  his  mouth  went  far  down  at  the  corner.  His  words 
hissed  from  a  small  distorted  aperture  near  the  chin.  "  You 
were  allowed  to  turn  Christian  for  the  acquiring  knowledge  of 
their  foolish  —  creed.  I  believed  that  the  soul  of  a  samurai's 
daughter,  —  of  my  daughter,  —  would  be  untainted  by  the 
immoral  portions  of  their  doctrine.  I  see  now  my  credulity ! 
Gods !  I  will  consume  myself  with  this  heat !  When,  you 
marry  —  wench,  —  which  shall  be  soon,  —  if  your  Japanese 
husband  approves  not  of  Christianity,  you  will  cease  to  be 
Christian ! " 

The  two  pairs  of  eyes  met,  hard,  flashing,  defiant.  Yuki 
rose  to  her  feet.  He  sprang  after  her.  His  right  hand  now 
felt  instinctively  for  the  sword-hilts  which  should  have  been 
at  his  hip.  The  leering,  down-drawn  mouth  twitched  and 
writhed. 

"  Your  words  do  not  lash  from  me  my  heritage  of  race ! " 


120  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

she  cried  aloud.  "  I  am  still  your  daughter,  —  a  samurai's 
daughter ! "  With  a  movement  like  light  she  stripped  back 
her  left  sleeve,  baring  a  white,  blue-threaded  arm.  "  Because 
I  am  a  samurai's  daughter  I  refuse  a  coward's  obedience! 
Hot  blood  of  a  samurai  stings  these  veins  no  less  than  those 
bronze  arteries  you  clutch.  Show  me  reason  and  I  will  listen. 
Apart  from  that  I  defy  you !  I  shall  be  faithful  to  the  man 
I  love  even  though  your  legal  rights  prevent  our  happiness. 
Turn  me  into  the  street,  —  slay  me  with  your  own  hand,  —  I 
shall  not  be  compelled  into  a  marriage  of  your  choosing!" 

Onda  clutched  his  throat.  The  breath  came  gurgling  like  a 
liquid.  For  an  instant  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  hurl  himself 
bodily  upon  her.  Then  he  stumbled  backward  against  the 
plaster  wall  of  the  room,  clawing  at  its  tinted  surface.  Yuki's 
eyes  never  left  him.  Now  he  lurched  again  toward  her,  then 
fell  back,  shaken  like  a  jointed  puppet  by  his  own  consuming 
rage.  "  Gods  of  my  Ancestors !  Demons  of  the  deepest 
Hell!  Go,  go! — lest  indeed  I  slay  you.  You  fiend  —  you 
hannia !  From  my  sight,  I  say  !  —  I  cannot  endure  —  " 

He  cowered  again,  striking  himself  into  temporary  blind- 
ness with  one  powerful  fist. 

"I  go,  father,  in  obedience,  — not  in  fear,"  said  the  girl's 
clear  voice.  He  sprawled  forward,  and  fell,  sobbing  like  an 
exhausted  runner.  Yuki  covered  her  face  and  went. 


CHAPTEK    TEN 

WITH  the  Imperial  Restoration  in  Japan  — an  event,  in  time, 
just  thirty-five  years  before  the  date  mentioned  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  story  —  many  of  the  nobles  of  Japan  met  with 
ruin.  This  was  especially  the  case  with  the  "hatamoto," 
a  class  directly  dependent  for  revenue  and  patronage  upon  the 
favor  of  the  usurping  "  Shogun."  The  real  Emperor,  then  a 
boy  of  sixteen,  living  in  seclusion  at  Kioto,  was  still  nominal 
ruler  and  spiritual  head  of  the  government,  forming  a  sort  of 
"  Holy  Roman  Empire,"  translated  into  terms  of  Buddhism. 
When,  as  a  result  of  revolution  and  many  sharp,  fierce  battles, 
this  boy  was  brought  in  triumph  to  take  his  rightful  place  as 
temporal  ruler  also,  with  a  new  court  in  the  great  capital  of 
Tokio,  the  Shogun,  direct  descendant  of  the  mighty  lyeyasu, 
went  into  dignified  retirement.  Over-rich  monasteries  and 
temples,  arrogant  after  centuries  of  Tokugawa  benefice,  were 
forced  to  part  with  broad  lands,  and  even,  in  certain  instances, 
with  personal  treasure.  The  simpler  "  Shinto  "  faith,  an  in- 
digenous nature-spirit  and  ancestor-worshipping  creed,  opposed 
its  principles  to  gorgeous  Buddhist  forms.  The  pure  spirit  of 
the  younger  faith  and  the  profundities  of  its  philosophy  did 
not  suffer.  The  blow  was  aimed  at  externals.  The  child-like 
Japanese  soul  to-day  kneels  with  equal  sincerity  at  a  wayside 
Shinto  shrine  or  before  the  gold-hung  altars  of  Sakyamuni. 

This  revolution,  then,  was  threefold  and  complete.  Pol- 
itics, religion,  society,  shifted  within  their  national  circle  and 
assumed  new  aspects.  The  centre  of  all  was  the  young  ruler, 
Mutsuhito.  Now  the  "kuge,"  or  court  nobles  of  Kioto,  who 
had  willingly  shared  retirement  and  comparative  poverty  with 
this  true  descendant  of  the  gods,  came  again  into  power.  But 
besides  these  two  classes,  the  hatamoto  and  other  dependent 
samurai,  and  the  kuge,  was  still  a  third,  —  the  most  important, 
—  the  daimyo  or  feudal  lords  of  the  empire.  Some.  a»mong  thes^e 


122  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

had  never  yet  given  satisfactory  hostages  to  the  Shoguns,  and 
lived  always  in  a  state  of  insolent  pride  and  suppressed  insur- 
rection. At  need  of  their  Emperor,  the  true  mettle  of  their 
loyalty  rang  out.  Men,  money,  lives,  property,  were  poured 
out  like  water  for  this  beloved  cause.  Those  who  had  been 
haughtiest  to  the  Shoguns  bowed  now  in  deepest  reverence 
to  the  boy  Mutsuhito,  in  whose  veins  ran  the  blood  of  their 
ancient  dynasty.  He  was  to  them  truly  divine ;  not  in  the  im- 
possible, superstitious  sense,  but  as  a  sort  of  human  channel 
flowing  between  the  old  gods  and  modern  men.  Through  him 
were  reconstruction  and  new  national  glory  to  be  gained.  A 
life  laid  down  in  his  cause  were  but  newly  come  alive. 

Prominent  among  such  patriots  was  the  old  Daimyo  of 
Konda,  father  of  the  present  Prince  Hagane.  His  title  more 
literally  translated  would  be  that  of  "  Duke,"  or  "  Feudal 
Prince."  His  lands,  lying  far  to  the  south,  with  a  rough  chan- 
nel to  divide  them  from  the  mainland,  held  almost  a  separate 
and  independent  existence.  His  chief  province,  and  the  one 
from  which  he  took  his  title,  was  Konda.  "Hagane"  was 
the  family  name.  At  the  first  hint  of  national  uprising  the 
old  daimyo,  abandoning  his  own  loved  home,  came  at  once  to 
Kioto,  and  later  made  the  journey  with  the  young  Ernperor 
to  Yedo.  By  right  he  assumed  the  place  of  guardian  and  ad- 
viser. The  old  daimyo  was,  as  it  chanced,  somewhat  learned 
in  foreign  matters,  and  this,  in  spite  of  the  Shogun's  rigid 
exclusion  of  all  things  foreign,  of  the  death-penalty  to  any 
Japanese  attempting  to  leave  Japan,  or,  having  managed  to 
leave,  attempting  to  return.  This  was  a  mighty  armor  of 
self-protection  to  the  Tokugawa  policy ;  but,  in  common  with 
most  armor,  it  had  just  one  small  flaw.  In  this  case  the  flaw 
was  a  tiny  island,  granted  to  the  Dutch,  called  "  Deshima." 
Not  far  from  the  Konda  borders  lay  this  innocent  fleck  of 
earth,  surrounded  by  blue  native  seas,  and  overgrown,  like 
other  islands,  with  tall  feathery  bamboo,  camellia,  and  cam- 
phor trees ;  and  yet,  because  of  its  existence,  Hagane  gained 
foreign  books, —  from  it  he  smuggled  a  Dutch  interpreter  who 
could  read  and  write  not  only  his  own  language,  but  Japan- 
ese. Other  curious  minds  drew  near  this  spring  of  knowledge  ; 
and,  partly  because  of  it,  long  before  Perry's  expedition  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       123 

the  Far  East,  the  Japanese  people  had  become  restless,  eager, 
awake,  and  in  ferment  for  a  national  readjustment. 

Hagane's  one  son,  Sanetomo,  a  few  years  older  than  the 
boy  Emperor,  and  reared  as  nearly  in  friendship  with  him  as 
reverence  would  allow,  was  among  the  first  youths  of  his  class 
to  travel  in  Europe,  and  to  acquire  any  European  language. 
Upon  his  father's  death,  he  was  asked  by  the  Emperor  to 
take  at  once  the  offices  and  semi-royal  prerogatives  of  the 
lamented  elder  statesman.  All  the  daimyos  had  received 
national  bonds  for  the  alienation  of  their  fiefs ;  and  thus 
those  who  had  been  most  powerful  still  enjoyed  great  wealth 
in  their  own  right. 

With  the  Emperor  once  firmly  established,  etiquette  and 
the  restrictions  of  court-life  began  to  prove  irksome  to  San- 
etomo. One  could  have  continued  to  practise  fine  manners 
under  the  Shoguns.  Here  to-day  was  something  better.  A 
new  army  was  to  be  formed;  after  that  a  new  navy.  Hagane 
advised  adaptation  of  tactics  from  the  German  military  school, 
its  unbending  automatonisrn  appearing  to  him  a  safe  restric- 
tion for  enthusiastic  beginners.  From  the  first,  however,  his 
mind  had  been  fixed  upon  the  administrative  methods  of  that 
marvellous  small  heart  of  an  enormous  empire,  England.  Japan 
should  be  to  the  Far  East  what  England  had  become  to  the 
West.  What  one  island  had  accomplished,  that  also  could 
another  do. 

The  Japanese  nation  as  a  whole  went  reeling  drunk  with 
over-potations  of  foreign  ideas.  For  a  while  it  seemed  that 
everything  Japanese  was  to  be  swept  away.  The  small  op- 
position party,  frenzied  by  the  apparition,  took  hideous  re- 
venge in  murder,  assassination,  and  suicide.  Hagane's  faith 
did  not  for  a  moment  waver.  After  excess  comes  nausea, 
reaction.  So  had  his  countrymen,  in  more  than  one  epoch 
now  long  past,  drunk  in  the  new.  In  time  they  would  reject 
the  unneedful,  and  infuse  new  power  in  what  they  had  adopted. 
The  thinkers  of  his  empire  could  afford  to  wait. 

When  the  new  constitution  was  promulgated  in  February, 
1889,  there  was  rejoicing  such  as  this  old  earth  seldom  sees. 
Hagane  was  created  Minister  of  War.  This  position  he  had 
continued  to  hold,  with  varying  intervals.  He  was  now  the  in- 


124  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

cumbent.  Much  of  his  time  was  spent,  perforce,  in  the  "  for- 
eign "  official  residence,  well  within  sight  of  the  Imperial  moats. 
Most  of  such  edifices  in  Tokio  are  depressing.  This  was  par- 
ticularly cheerless.  The  house  of  brick,  wood,  and  plaster, 
chiefly  plaster,  stood  full  two  stories  high,  was  of  ample  dimen- 
sions, and  had  a  huge,  square,  blue-tiled  roof.  Though  planned 
and  built  by  the  most  artistic  nation  now  alive,  it  had  not  one 
line  of  beauty,  nor  one  successful  effort  after  fine  proportion. 
In  these  early  days  it  seemed  an  accepted  creed  among  the 
Japanese  that  anything  to  be  truly  "foreign"  must  neces- 
sarily offend  the  eye;  yet,  thought  the  ingenuous  pupils, 
since  ugliness  apparently  goes  in  the  company  of  wealth, 
power,  material  welfare,  and  political  recognition,  —  why,  by 
all  means,  let  us  be  uglier  than  the  foreigners  themselves  ! 

Around  the  house  lay  something  called  a  garden,  a  watery 
emulsion  of  American  flower  beds  and  a  Japanese  landscape 
creation.  The  effect  of  the  whole  place  was  amorphous, 
unstable,  depressing,  with  the  one  redeeming  feature  of  big- 
ness. 

Onda  Tetsujo,  speeding  toward  this  haven  in  his  hired 
jinrikisha,  rattled  along  the  uneven  stone  of  the  street,  and 
then  turned  into  the  one  great  entrance  of  the  imposing  shell. 
The  garden  wall  had  a  secret  gate  or  two,  but  these  were  gen- 
erally kept  bolted.  The  storm  of  the  early  morning  was 
abating.  A  drizzling,  discouraged  rain,  with  irregular  gusts 
of  wind  through  it,  persisted  in  efforts  to  exclude  all  cheer. 
Onda  knocked  at  one  of  the  rear  doors  of  the  Japanese  wing, 
and  was  but  little  surprised  to  hear,  from,  the  man  who 
opened  for  him,  that  his  Excellency  the  Prince,  having  trans- 
acted all  official  business  for  the  day,  had  now  retired  to  his 
"  besso  "  (villa)  on  the  high  land  of  suburban  "  Tabata." 

Onda  re-entered  his  vehicle  and  gave  the  curt  order, 
"  Tabata."  In  the  street  he  added,  "  Call  an  atoshi,  and  pull 
up  the  hood  and  oil-cloth."  An  atoshi,  or  "  Mr.  After,"  was 
summoned,  the  oil-cloth  hood  of  the  jinrikisha  drawn  far  over 
and  held  in  place  by  a  single  black  cord  knotted  to  one 
shaft.  A  sort  of  oil-cloth  lap-robe,  hung  up  in  front  and 
hooked  to  the  inner  lining  of  the  hood,  afforded  complete  im- 
munity from  wetting.  Within  the  careful  adjustment  sat 


125 

Tetsujo,  blinking  and  scowling.  The  day  had  brought  him  a 
new  and  unwelcomed  experience,  —  defiance  from  a  woman. 
He  wondered,  as  he  was  dragged  along  the  viscid  street, 
whether,  in  the  happy,  vanished  feudal  days,  any  warrior  of 
his  clan  had  known  a  similar  indignity.  There  was  on  record 
the  case  of  a  wilful  bride  who,  married  against  her  wishes  to 
an  Onda  chief,  had  disguised  herself  in  a  suit  of  armor  grown 
too  small  for  him,  and  sought  heroic  death  in  battle.  But 
even  this  was  better  than  open  insult  and  defiance.  Well, 
Yuki  must  be  watched  closely.  Her  education  and  beauty 
were  not  to  be  thrown  away  on  a  foreigner  who,  likely  as  not, 
would  tire  of  and  desert  her.  She  must  marry  a  young  Japan- 
ese already  well  along  on  the  way  to  official  or  military  pro- 
motion. When  this  Russian  war  came,  Japan  would  need  all 
her  people,  men  and  women.  His  only  child  should  not  be 
given  over  to  the  loose  affections  of  a  foreigner.  He  scowled 
anew  at  the  thought,  and  gave  so  savage  a  sound  that  his 
coolies  stopped  short  in  the  road  to  inquire  whether  the 
honorable  master  were  in  pain. 

"  No,"  growled  Tetsujo,  in  return,  "  a  warrior  does  not  feel 
pain ;  that  is  for  babes  and  women." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  redoubled  grunts  and  groans  of  his 
bearers  —  evidently  sharing  shamelessly  the  weaker  preroga- 
tives of  the  other  sex  —  told  Tetsujo  that  they  had  begun  the 
ascent  of  the  Tabata  slope.  At  the  eastern  edge,  where  the 
hill  goes  down  like  a  cliff,  and  one  looking  far  out  over  rice- 
fields  sees  the  Sumida  River  finding  a  shining  road  to  Tokio, 
and  the  great  twin  peaks  of  Tsukuba-yama  standing  guard 
over  the  other  half  of  the  world,  spread  the  broad  eaves  of 
Prince  Hagane's  villa. 

Onda  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  stepped  out  under  the 
door-roof. 

"  0  tanomi  moshimasu ! "  (I  make  request)  he  called,  rap- 
ping on  the  closed  shoji  panels  with  his  knuckles. 

"Hai!"  came  almost  instantly  from  within,  and  a  house- 
maid was  on  her  knees  pushing  the  panels  softly  aside,  a  hand 
on  each. 

"  The  august  one  —  is  he  within  ?  "  asked  the  visitor. 

"  Hai !    Illustrious  Sir.     Deign  to  mount  the  step,  and,  seat- 


12C  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

ing  yourself  on  the  hard  mats,  be  refreshed  by  our  tasteless 
tea  and  worthless  cakes,  while  I  hasten  to  announce  your  joy- 
giving  appearance." 

Tetsujo  dismissed  his  kuruma  men,  shook  off  his  shoes,  and 
remained  seated  on  the  mats,  still  with  folded  arms,  still  deep 
in  thought.  The  little  maid,  returning  quickly,  murmured 
that  "  the  noble  master  would  receive  his  honorable  guest  at 
once." 

Prince  Hagane  sat  alone  in  the  great  room,  immediately 
surrounded  by  boxes  and  trays  with  tea,  writing,  and  smoking 
outfits.  There  was  one  beautiful  hibachi,  or  firepot,  of  ham- 
mered brass.  An  English  book  on  International  Law  lay  on 
the  floor  beside  him  among  newspapers  in  Japanese,  Chinese, 
English,  French,  and  German.  Passages  in  these  papers  had 
been  heavily  marked  by  the  blue  and  red  pencil  still  held  in 
the  reader's  hand.  He  did  not  rise  or  bow  as  Tetsujo  en- 
tered, merely  turning  his  face  "toward  the  opened  fusuma  and 
saying,  "Most  welcome,  good  Tetsujo.  Enter  and  forget  the 
storm." 

"  I  fear  I  have  brought  the  storm  in  with  me,  your  High- 
ness," Tetsujo  could  not  refrain  from  crying.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  just  within  the  door,  bowed  many  times,  and  drew  in 
his  breath  loudly.  Hagane  lifted  an  unread  newspaper  and 
made  several  markings  while  Tetsujo  continued  his  genu- 
flections. Having  at  last  completed  a  number  satisfactory  to 
his  sense  of  propriety,  he  sat  upright.  Hagane  folded  this 
last  paper,  and  put  it  into  a  heap  with  the  others. 

"  Draw  nearer,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  It  is  a  day  for 
a  chat  between  old  friends.  No,  be  not  so  humble  —  nearer 
yet  —  I  insist.  Now  —  that  is  better  and  more  companionable. 
Pour  yourself  some  tea." 

"Honors  are  heaped  upon  your  unworthy  servant,"  rejoined 
Onda,  pouring  tea,  first  for  the  prince,  then  for  himself.  "  I 
have  just  come  from  the  official  residence  of  your  Highness. 
How  cold  and  un-homelike  appear  all  foreign  houses ;  while 
this  —  "  he  paused  to  look  slowly  around  —  "  this  warms  a 
man's  heart  to  see." 

"  Though  insignificant,  it  has   a  certain  restfulness,"  ad- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       127 

mitted  the  host.  "Lacking  a  mistress,  it  cannot  seem  in 
reality  a  home." 

Tetsujo's  face  clouded.  "  Speak  not  to  me  of  mistresses, 
Lord,"  he  mumbled  sourly. 

Hagane  gave  him  a  queer  glance,  but  said  nothing.  He 
understood  well  the  nature  of  his  own  kerai.  So  angular  a 
thought  as  now  distressed  him  must  soon  work  its  way  to  the 
surface  of  speech.  "To-day  I  am  in  mind  of  the  Chinese 
sage  who  taught  us  that  all  women  are  mere  manifestations 
of  demoniac  force.  They  are  sent  here  to  tempt  us  —  to  test 
—  to  torment.  Would  that  I  could  reach  a  heaven  of  warriors, 
untainted  by  their  sex  —  !  " 

"  Surely,  my  Tetsujo,"  interrupted  Hagane,  gravely,  "  those 
of  your  household  bring  no  torment.  I  have  never  known  a 
better  wife  than  Iriya." 

"  I  complain  not  of  Iriya,"  said  the  other,  a  hint  of  excite- 
ment creeping  into  his  voice  ;  "  but,  Lord,  had  you  seen  that 
ingrate  that  I  must  call  my  daughter !  Had  you  seen  Yuki  an 
hour  since,  you  would  have  perceived  what  the  Chinese  mean 
by  she-demons." 

"Yuki!"  echoed  Hagane,  this  time  in  genuine  surprise. 
"  Is  there  not  some  mistake?  Yuki  is  spirited  ;  but  I  cannot 
picture  her  as  a  —  demon!" 

"  I  will  honorably  relate  the  event.  My  heart,  with  the 
memory,  seethes  and  bubbles  as  a  small  cauldron."  In  a  voice 
often  shaken  from  control  by  passion,  with  a  dark  countenance 
slowly  deepening  into  a  bronze  red  of  agitation,  Tetsujo  im- 
parted the  story  of  his  child's  defiance.  Not  once  did  Prince 
Hagane  lift  his  head,  not  even  when  Tetsujo,  beating  the 
matted  floor  in  his  rage,  roared  out,  "  Her  eyes  flashed,  my 
Lord,  like  those  of  a  dragon-maid  in  battle  !  They  scorched 
me  like  sparks  !  They  would  not  fall  though  I  sent  out  the 
whole  volume  of  my  will  to  quench  them.  It  was  defiance 
—  defiance  —  naked  and  unashamed  !  The  very  air  around 
me  turned  to  flame.  Murder  dried  my  tongue.  Had  I  worn 
my  short  swords  as  of  old,  —  " 

Hagane  gave  an  exclamation  and  looked  up.  "  What  then  ! 
Are  you  yourself  a  demon,  Tetsujo,  —  or  a  father  ?  Scorn  to 
you,  thus  speaking  of  a  maid  !  It  was  your  own  strong  spirit 


128  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

darting  upon  you  from  her  bright  eyes.     Gods  !    the  look  of 
her  must  have  been  magnificent ! " 

"  Magnificent !  Yes,  as  hell,  perhaps,  is  magnificent !  Think 
you  not,  Lord,  that  she  deserves  death  for  such  impiety  ?  " 

"My  poor  Tetsujo,"  said  Hagane,  "I  pray  you,  quaff  more 
tea  and  be  calm.  You  alone  cannot  walk  backward,  when  the 
rest  of  the  nation  races  to  the  fore.  Yuki's  death  for  such 
a  cause  would  certainly  mean  your  hanging,  and,  in  my 
opinion,  a  fate  that  you  would  well  deserve.  Come  now,  let 
us  reason  like  men,  not  squirm  and  crackle  like  live  devil-fish 
thrown  upon  coals.  The  point  of  the  matter  is,  that  your 
daughter  wishes  to  marry  one  of  her  choice,  and  not  one  of 
yours.  Naturally,  you  oppose  this." 

"Oppose  !"  echoed  Tetsujo,  straining  in  his  seat,  "  I  forbid 
it !  I  defy  her  to  attempt  it !  Should  she  persist,  she  shall 
have  my  curse  and  that  of  my  ancestors  — ' 

"Nay,  nay,  my  Tetsujo,  be  calm.  Anger  is  the  worst 
leak  in  a  man's  store  of  self-respect.  I  cannot  talk  further 
until  you  grow  calm."  He  paused  and  slowly  poured  for  him- 
self a  cup  of  tea,  as  if  to  give  the  old  warrior  time  for  self- 
recollection. 

Tetsujo  drew  a  tenugui  from  his  sleeve,  mopped  his  damp 
brow,  pulled  his  kimono  collar  into  smoother  folds,  and  settled, 
by  degrees,  into  an  appearance  of  tranquillity.  Now  and  again 
a  small  convulsive  shudder  still  passed  over  him,  a  movement 
involuntary  and  uncontrollable,  such  as  is  seen  in  a  runaway 
horse  brought  suddenly  to  a  stand. 

"  Now  let  me  question,"  began  Hagane's  deep  tones  again. 
"  Answer  nothing,  my  friend,  but  what  I  ask.  Are  you  cer- 
tain that  this  man,  whom  our  little  Yuki  thinks  she  loves,  is, 
indeed,  a  foreigner  ?  " 

"I  am  not  honorably  certain,  your  Highness,  even  of  so 
much.  But  I  think  he  is  a  foreigner.  No  Japanese,  not  even 
a  street  scavenger  of  Yedo,  as  I  told  her  —  " 

Hagane  raised  a  hand  for  silence.  "  You  should,  first  of 
all,  have  ascertained  his  race,  his  name,  and  his  profession. 
He  may  be  a  hired  Russian  spy  for  all  we  know." 

Tetsujo  almost  bounded  from  his  place.  "  A  Russian  spy  ! 
God  of  Battles,  — I  thought  not  of  that  !  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       129 

"And  did  you  bethink  yon  to  inquire  whether  the  —  person 
—  had  already  followed  her  to  this  country  ?  " 

Tetsujo's  eyes  rolled  fearfully.  He  found  no  ready  words. 
"My  Lord  —  my  Lord  —  "  he  gasped. 

"  You  now  perceive,  Tetsujo,  there  are  better  things  for  a 
man  to  do  with  his  wits  than  ignite  them,  and,  with  the  burn- 
ing bits,  play  a  foolish  jugglery.  Our  first  concern  is  to  find 
out  whether  or  not  that  man  is  here." 

Tetsujo  bowed  over  to  hide  his  chagrin.  "  Your  wisdom  is 
that  of  Do-ku  and  Benkei  Sanaa  in  one,"  he  murmured. 

Hagane  stuffed  and  lighted  a  small  pipe.  "  When  you  met 
your  daughter  on  the  hatoba  at  Yokohama  were  there  young 
males  of  the  party  ?  " 

"  Hai,  master.  I  recall  now  two  strange  and  alert  ones  who 
appeared  to  be  young." 

"  Was  one  of  a  pink  color,  like  buds  of  a  kaido  bloom,  and 
eyes  a  deep-blue  color  ?  " 

"  All  were  red  and  hideous.  The  one  who  tried  to  speak 
with  me  had  rice-straw  on  his  head  in  place  of  decent  hair." 

"  Ah,"  said  Hagane,  puffing  at  his  pipe. 

"Yes,  your  Highness,  and  in  our  conversation  she  informed 
me  that  the  Todds  were  well  aware  of  her  shameful  passion, 
and  that  the  women  upheld  it." 

Silence  fell  between  the  men.  Tetsujo  bit  his  finger-nails 
in  his  impatience. 

"In  three  more  days,"  began  the  other,  slowly,  "Mr.  Todd 
will  be  formally  presented  to  his  Sacred  Majesty  ;  after  that 
ceremony  he  will  not,  I  think,  permit  his  women  to  aid  Yuki 
in  a  marriage  which  is  against  your  wishes  and  —  mine." 

Onda  gave  a  joyful  start. 

"Wait,"  said  Hagane,  "there  is  more  to  be  said;  I  must 
take  a  moment's  counsel  with  myself."  At  these  words  he 
fell  into  a  reverie  so  profound  that  his  spirit  seemed  to  be 
absent  from  his  breathing  body. 

Tetsujo  controlled  himself  as  best  he  could.  The  whole 
affair  was  galling  to  his  pride.  He  resented  even  Hagane's 
knowing  of  the  indignity;  yet  he  had  no  recourse  but 
Hagane.  The  rain-water,  trickling  with  a  sound  of  dull  clink- 
ing coins  down  the  tin  corner-spouts,  irritated  him  to  madness. 

9 


130  THE  BREATH  OF   THE  GODS 

He  hated  the  little  wet  sparrows  Avho  sat  up  under  the  eaves 
and  exchanged  uncomplimentary  remarks  about  the  weather. 
Hagane's  power  of  concentration  was  in  itself  reproof  and 
another  source  of  irritation.  The  great  man  came  to  himself 
without  a  start. 

"  Listen,  Onda  Tetsujo,  I  will  offer  advice,  but  it  must  be 
taken  entire.  I  will  have  no  variation,  mind  you,  or  personal 
addition." 

"I  shall  receive  it  humbly,  on  my  head,"  grumbled  the 
kerai. 

Hagane  controlled  a  smile.  "  Upon  your  return,  treat  the 
maiden  gently.  Defiance  is  her  best  armor.  We  must  not  be 
harsh.  Win  her  confidence  by  renewed  kindnesses.  If  pos- 
sible, bend  your  haughty  will  to  the  point  of  expressing  regret 
for  this  morning's  anger." 

"  Excuse  myself  to  a  woman  —  to  my  own  daughter  !  " 

"I  shall  not  insist  upon  that  point.  I  said  only  if  it  were 
possible.  Some  things  are  not  possible,  even  to  a  Buddha." 

"  And  this  is  even  such,"  cried  Tetsujo. 

"Let  it  pass.  My  purpose  may  be  accomplished  without. 
It  is  indispensable,  however,  that  you  be  kind.  Give  to  her, 
unsolicited,  permission  to  invite  the  women  of  the  Todd  family 
to  your  home." 

"  This,  too,  is  difficult,"  muttered  Tetsujo ;  "  but  with  the 
aid  of  Fudo  Bosatsu  (Bodhisattwa  of  the  Fiery  Immovability) 
I  can  achieve  it." 

"Excellent,"  said  the  other;  "now  for  my  part.  I  will, 
on  the  day  of  Mr.  Todd's  presentation,  arrange  for  a  banquet 
here  at  Tabata,  to  which  I  will  invite  the  family  of  Mr. 
Todd  and  also  the  two  young  men  whom  you  saw  at  Yoko- 
hama. If  Yuki's  foreign  lover  is  here  at  all,  he  is  of  that 
party." 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  such  deep  thought  and  consideration 
at  your  hands,  Lord,"  said  Tetsujo,  gratefully. 

"Be  not  deceived.  It  is  for  Yuki's  sake  as  well.  Since 
her  early  childhood  I  have  watched  with  deep  interest  the 
growth  of  her  fine  intellect  and  the  development  of  her 
unusual  beauty.  Lacking  children  of  my  own,  I  have  felt 
something  of  a  father's  affection  for  her.  I  too  wish  to  keep 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       131 

her  for  Japan.  I  approve  not  the  thought  of  a  foreign 
marriage." 

Tetsujo  lifted  his  head.  "  One  question  more,  your  High- 
ness. Is  it  your  belief  that  Yuki  will  surely  betray  herself,  if 
indeed  the  foreign  devil  whom  she  —  she  —  well ,  the  foreign 
devil,  —  should  arrive  ?  " 

"I  think  she  cannot  utterly  deceive  us  both,"  said  Hagane, 
diplomatically. 

Still  Onda  looked  doubtful.  "Yesterday  I  should  have 
said  the  same ;  but  since  this  defiance  —  this  exhibition  of 
unwomanly  strength  —  " 

"My  life  has  been  one  long  school  of  human  character. 
Yuki  will  not  deceive  us  both,"  reiterated  the  Prince. 

"  I  am  content.  I  will  now  remove  my  worthless  body 
from  your  sight,  having  claimed  already  far  too  much  of  your 
august  consideration."  Tetsujo  bowed  and  rose.  The  other 
rose  also,  following  him  half  across  the  room. 

"  There  is  yet  one  bit  of  counsel,"  said  he.  "For  the  next 
three  days,  until  the  banquet,  Yuki  must  not  leave  the  house 
alone.  Let  her  go  where  she  will,  Tetsujo,  but  be  you  always 
near.  If  a  foreigner  should  force  entrance,  or  stop  your 
daughter  on  the  street,  allow  no  private  speech  between  them ; 
and  if  he  persist,  as  mad  foreigners  will,  call  the  nearest 
guard,  and  make  free  use  of  my  name." 

"Your  mercy  is  as  wide  as  Heaven,  Lord,"  murmured  the 
kerai,  as  he  finally  took  his  departure. 

Through  the  gentle  and  most  willing  mediator,  Iriya,  Tet- 
sujo transmitted  his  willingness  to  receive  Yuki's  foreign 
friends.  This  sudden  clemency,  riding  on  the  very  back  of 
fury,  turned  to  the  girl  a  masked  face  of  new  fear.  She  knew 
her  father  incapable  of  such  sudden  reversion,  or  of  the  sub- 
tlety implied.  A  stronger  power  was  behind  him.  She  was 
to  be  watched  and  experimented  upon.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this 
intuitive  belief,  she  could  not  put  aside  the  opportunity  of 
seeing  her  friend,  of  hearing  from  her  lover. 

A  messenger  bore  her  carefully  worded  note  to  the  Ameri- 
can Legation.  Mrs.  Todd  and  Gwendolen  responded  almost 
instantly.  The  former  overwhelmed  her  with  endearments 


132  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

and  reproaches,  an  exhibition  embarrassing  to  the  girl  and 
terrifying  to  Iriya.  The  servants  peeped  in  through  chinks 
in  the  hall  shoji,  and  at  this  sight  Maru  clapped  a  hand  to 
her  mouth  to  keep  from  shrieking,  and,  fleeing  to  the  back- 
yard, rocked  to  and  fro,  sobbing,  "  The  big  foreign  lady  is 
eating  our  young  mistress  ;  oh,  what  terrible  creatures  are 
the  foreigners ! " 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Todd,  happily  unconscious  of  the  effect 
she  was  producing,  continued  her  volley  of  ejaculations. 
"My  dearest  child!  Such  relief  when  your  note  came. 
Gwendolen  and  I  were  almost  distracted,  were  n't  we,  Gwen- 
dolen ?  Of  course  Cyrus  called  us  geese,  and  said  we  were 
making  mountains  out  of  mole-hills ;  but  Cy  is  always  dis- 
agreeable when  we  get  into  a  twitter.  But  I  can  assure  you, 
my  dear,  there  is  one  man  at  least  who  does  not  think  us 
silly;  he  has  been  worse  off  than  either  of  us,  hasn't  he, 
Gwennie?" 

"  Be  careful  — be  careful,"  said  Yuki,  in  a  low  voice. 

Iriya  was  in  the  room,  a  very  figure-head  of  a  hostess  with 
her  reserved,  timid  ways  and  lack  of  fluent  English.  She 
managed  now  by  gestures,  and  a  very  careful  use  of  certain 
phrases  learned  by  rote  from  a  book  of  foreign  etiquette,  to 
invite  her  guests  to  be  seated.  When  this  was  accomplished, 
not  without  many  suppressed  grunts  from  the  stout  lady, 
Gwendolen  managed  to  get  near  her  friend,  and  to  put  out  a 
cool,  slim  hand,  with  a  pressure  of  re-assuring  love.  Yuki 
clasped  the  hand  quickly,  but  did  not  forget  another  warning 
look.  She  leaned  next  toward  the  great  cluster  of  hot-house 
flowers  which  the  American  girl  wore  at  her  belt,  and,  under 
cover  of  examining  them,  whispered,  "  My  father  is  already 
opposed  to  me.  I  do  not  know  what  to  do.  Even  writing  a 
letter  is  impossible.  Only  tell  him  to  be  patient,  and  have 
faith." 

"He's  beside  himself,"  returned  Gwendolen, in  the  same 
suppressed  voice.  "  He  carries  on  like  a  girl  at  a  matinee ; 
but  this  word  from  you  will  help  him.  Of  course  all  of  us 
knew  that  something  was  going  wrong." 

Mrs.  Todd,  to  divert  attention  from  the  whisperers,  engaged 
Iriya  in  vociferous  conversation.  "  Yuki  back  again !  You 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       133 

very  happy?  "  she  asked  in  a  loud  voice,  as  if  her  hostess 
were  deaf. 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Iriya,  timidly,  in  English,  "we  are  quite 
hap-pee." 

"  Why,  she  understands  beautifully ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todd  to 
the  two  girls,  in  triumph,  as  at  a  personal  achievement. 

"  Mother  reads  English  well,  and  even  in  talking  she  under- 
stands things,  when  one  is  thoughtful  to  speak  slowly  and 
emphatic,  as  you  have  done,  dear  Mrs.  Todd.  But  she  is  bash- 
ful about  the  trying,"  said  Yuki. 

"  She  needn't  be,  I  'm  sure! "  cried  the  matron.  "  She  pro- 
nounces real  well.  But  it 's  a  never-ending  marvel  to  me  how 
these  people  pick  it  up.  Why,  there  's  hardly  a  shop  in  the 
Ginza  where  they  don't  talk  it!  I'm  sure  I'll  never  catch  on 
to  your  queer  language,  Yuki-ko,  if  I  live  here  a  hundred 
years." 

"  Come  look  at  my  dear  plum-tree  that  I  used  to  talk  about 
in  America,"  said  Yuki  to  Gwendolen,  rising  as  she  spoke. 
Iriya  looked  up  in  consternation.  Her  artless  face  showed 
perfectly  that  she  had  been  forbidden  to  let  Yuki  from  her 
sight.  Behind  a  certain  closed  fusuma  panel,  the  one  opening 
directly  into  Tetsujo's  study,  came  a  very  low  sound,  as  if  of 
a  stifled  cough.  Yuki  threw  a  sad  little  smile  back  over  her 
shoulder  to  Iriya.  "I  am  not  going  from  the  veranda, 
mother,"  she  said  in  English. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  whispered  Gwendolen,  as  they  reached 
the  further  side  of  the  room,  "  are  you  a  condemned  prisoner 
already  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Yuki,  "but  I  am  a  watched  one.  -It  is  too 
humiliating." 

"  Are  they  afraid  Pierre  will  run  away  with  you?  " 

"  They  know  nothing  of  Pierre,  only  that  I  wish  to  choose 
for  myself  the  man  I  am  to  marry.  They  do  not  even  cer- 
tainly know  that  he  is  a  foreigner.  I  must  keep  them  from 
knowing,  or  they  will  be  more  angrier  yet." 

"  Your  father  is  not  exactly  a  lover  of  foreigners,  is  he  ?  " 
asked  Gwendolen,  dryly. 

Yuki  gave  a  sorry  little  smile.  "  And  a  Frenchman,  Gwen- 
dolen, —  a  Frenchman  with  the  Russian  mother !  It  is  going 


134  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

to  be  a  long,  hard  fight,  like  the  coming  war  itself.  But  I 
must  be  brave.  My  promise  I  have  given  to  Pierre." 

"Poor  darling,"  cried  Gwendolen,  clasping  her  closer,  "I 
almost  wish  you  had  ii't ;  but,  of  course,  when  one  is  in  love,  — 
I  have  a  letter  for  you  here.  Shall  you  dare  take  it  ?" 

Yuki  flushed  and  looked  miserable,  as  she  said,  "  Yes,  I  shall 
take  it,  though  I  must  use  the  deceit.  I  will  for  the  first 
time  deceive.  When  we  go  back,  put  it  on  the  floor  in  your 
handkerchief,  and  I  will  take  it  up.  I  feel  to  be  sick  at  the 
thought  of  such  treachery  to  my  parents ;  but  what  am  I  to 
do?" 

Neither  had  much  thought  for  the  beautiful  plum-tree  now 
opening  optimistic  blooms  after  the  storm  of  yesterday.  As 
the  girls  came  into  the  room  together,  Mrs.  Todd  said  to  Yuki, 
"  Your  mother  tells  me  that  you  are  all  invited  to  the  banquet 
of  Prince  Hagane  for  next  Friday." 

"Yes,"  said  Yuki,  smiling  and  seating  herself  near  the 
speaker,  "  we  have  accepted ;  but  at  the  last  moment  mother 
will  find  some  good  excuse  for  staying  away.  She  always  does. 
Is  not  that  true,  Mama  San  ?  " 

The  substance  of  the  loving  gibe  being  translated,  Iriya 
blushed  and  tittered,  and  put  her  face  to  her  sleeve,  like  any 
schoolgirl.  "  Naugh-tee  Yuki-ko,"  she  managed  to  say,  "  make 
bad  talk  of  Mama  San !  " 

At  this  moment  the  bell  of  the  entrance  gate  gave  a  jangle 
unusually  loud  and  abrupt.  Immediately  bare  feet  of  ser- 
vants were  heard  scurrying  about  the  floors  of  the  house. 
Iriya  drew  her  head  erect  to  listen.  "  It  is  another  honorable 
visitor,"  she  murmured,  and  half  arose,  sinking  back,  as  she 
remembered  her  husband's  injunction. 

Yuki's  heart  had  begun  to  beat.  There  was  something  most 
un-Japanese  in  the  harsh,  sudden  clamor  of  the  tiny  bell. 
Masculine  footsteps,  unmistakably  in  foreign  shoes,  came 
around  by  the  kitchen  side  of  the  house  through  rows  of  green 
"  na,"  and  crunched  the  gravel  of  the  paths.  Yuki's  face  went 
white.  This  was  a  breach  of  etiquette  possible  only  to  a 
foreigner,  and  to  one  newly  arrived  in  Japan. 

As  the  group  of  four  women  gazed  outward,  not  knowing 
what  to  expect,  Pierre  Le  Beau's  high-bred,  sensitive  face,  a 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       135 

little  worn  by  the  suspense  of  the  past  three  days,  came  around 
the  corner,  and  stared  at  them  across  the  narrow,  polished 
veranda.  Yuki  and  Iriya  were  alike  incapable  of  speech. 
A  sulphurous,  low  growl  was  heard  behind  the  fusuma. 

"Shake  off  your  shoes  and  join  us,"  caine  Mrs.  Todd's 
loud,  jovial  command. 

"  If  Miss  Onda  repeats  the  invitation,"  said  he,  with  eyes 
upon  the  shrinking  girl. 

Iriya  bowed  without  realizing  what  she  did.  It  was  against 
all  decency  for  women  to  receive,  alone,  a  male  visitor.  She 
longed  to  call  her  husband,  but  did  not  dare.  For  once  in 
her  courteous,  quiet  life,  Iriya  Onda  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
Yuki  made  up  her  mind  quickly.  Though  her  heart  longed, 
burned  to  have  him  near,  she  knew  that  he  must  be  sent 
away.  If  he  came  in,  Tetsujo  would  realize  instantly  who  it 
was,  and  would  transmit  the  knowledge  to  his  shrewder  and 
more  far-sighted  monitor.  She  was  helpless,  alone,  unarmed, 
but  none  the  less  determined  to  fight  the  battle  of  a  love  to 
which  she  had  promised  fidelity.  With  effort  she  raised 
herself  to  a  stiff,  upright  posture,  and,  keeping  her  voice 
clear  and  cold,  she  said,  "  Sir,  if  my  honored  father  were  at 
home  he  would  doubtless  entreat  you  to  enter,  but  in  his 
absence,  neither  my  mother  nor  myself  have  authority  to 
take  that  pleasant  duty  upon  ourselves.  If  you  will  pardon 
my  great  rudeness,  sir,  we  shall  need  to  be  excused  from 
receiving  you  at  all." 

For  an  instant  the  young  man  stared.  Slowly  his  face 
grew  white.  He  gave  one  glance  of  concentrated  love,  pain, 
and  resentment,  and  then  passed,  without  a  word,  along  the 
edge  of  the  veranda,  and  under  the  out-leaning  plum-tree. 
Yuki,  watching  him  with  a  dying  heart,  felt  that  never  again 
could  she  look  upon  her  favorite  tree  without  seeing  that 
fair,  bowed  head  beneath  the  branches.  Mrs.  Todd  gaped, 
incredulous,  at  the  girl.  Gwendolen  alone  realized  the  situa- 
tion. She  sprang  to  her  feet  instantly.  "  Mother  !  "  she  cried, 
"  the  young  man  came  for  us,  of  course.  We  have  trespassed 
too  long  on  Mrs.  Onda's  hospitality ;  now  let  us  join  our  un- 
fortunate visitor  at  the  gate  and  have  him  ride  home  with  us, 
I  have  something  of  importance  to  say  to  him," 


136  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Yuki  gave  a  little  sob  of  gratitude  and  relief.  Mrs.  Todd, 
partly  comprehending,  heaved  upward  to  her  feet.  "Yes," 
she  said  to  Gwendolen,  but  with  a  disapproving  glance 
poured,  full-measure,  upon  the  Japanese  girl,  "  let  us  ask  him 
to  ride  home.  The  poor  fellow  looked  as  if  the  earth  had 
crumbled  under  his  feet." 

Yuki  felt  the  reproach.  She  could  have  laughed  aloud  at 
the  irony  of  it. 

Mrs.  Todd  walked  in  what  she  supposed  a  stately  fashion 
across  the  room.  Her  feet  pressed  into  the  soft  matting  as 
into  a  stiff  dough,  leaving  behind  her  a  track  of  shallow 
indentations. 

At  parting  Gwendolen  whispered  in  her  friend's  ear,  "I 
understood.  Your  father  has  been  watching  all  along.  I 
will  make  things  clear  to  the  other." 

When  the  panelled  gate  was  closed  once  more,  and  the 
little  bell  cold  after  long  reverberation,  Yuki  felt  a  great 
physical  shudder.  Her  nerves  demanded  of  her  the  respite 
of  tears,  but  still  she  held  herself  in  check.  The  luxury  of 
weeping  and  the  hidden  letter  alike  must  wait  until  a  night 
hour  when  the  rest  of  the  house  was  asleep. 

She  went  out  into  the  sunshine  of  the  garden,  well  within 
sight  of  the  house.  She  tried  not  to  think,  or  to  allow  fore- 
bodings. Against  the  old  plum-tree  she  leaned,  catching  idly 
the  white  drifting  petals.  Each  might  have  been  a  separate 
poem,  so  freighted  is  Japanese  lore  with  fancies  and  exquisite 
imagery  drawn  from  this  favorite  flower.  The  transience 
of  life,  its  sweetness,  fidelity  to  natural  law,  wifehood  and 
womanly  tenderness,  rebirth,  immortality,  —  all  these  thoughts 
and  more  came  to  her  softly  as  the  petals  came.  Through 
each  mood,  like  the  clang  and  clash  of  brass  through  low 
melody,  recurred  the  vision  of  Pierre  —  of  his  yellow  hair 
beneath  the  old  plum-tree.  But  with  the  petals  fell  un- 
counted moments,  heaped  less  tangibly  into  hours.  So  passed 
the  day  and  succeeding  days. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

THE  short  interval  between  the  Todds'  visit  and  Prince 
Hagane's  banquet  was  wrought,  within  the  confines  of  the 
Onda  home,  of  small,  shifting  particles  of  disquiet,  discontent, 
despondency,  —  a  sort  of  mist  that  kept  the  spirit  dark  and 
chill. 

Tetsujo  found  difficulty  in  meeting  his  daughter's  gaze; 
though,  when  her  face  was  averted,  he  looked  long,  and 
moodily  enough.  He  had  spoken  to  her  more  than  once, 
always  in  forced,  crisp  speech,  chopping  his  words  into  inches 
and  weighing  each  separate  cube.  Through  this  mechanical 
means  he  informed  her  that  she  was  to  attend  Prince  Hagane's 
banquet  without  fail,  and  ride  there  in  a  double  jinrikisha  with 
him,  her  father.  Iriya  and  the  servants  were  permitted  to 
resume  normal  relations  with  the  culprit.  Externally  things 
went  into  their  old  domestic  grooves. 

It  came  to  the  girl,  not  with  a  shock  of  surprise,  but  rather 
as  an  insidious  growth  of  conviction,  that  the  decision  behind 
Tetsujo's  demeanor  was  inspired  by  no  less  a  person  than 
Lord  Hagane.  At  first  it  seemed  incredible  that  so  great  a  man 
could  concern  himself  with  the  affairs  of  a  mere  girl.  At  this 
very  moment  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  threatened  national 
crisis.  Friendship  with  her  father  could  scarcely  account  for 
all.  Hagane  must  have  some  personal  suspicion  of  the  ex- 
istence of  Pierre,  of  Pierre's  family,  and  of  his  attitude  toward 
her.  Her  mind  went  back  to  her  meeting  with  the  Prince 
in  Washington.  She  had  been  the  one  to  introduce  Pierre. 
Now  she  tried  to  recall  every  look  and  word  of  that  morning 
interview,  which  followed  her  debutante  ball.  Again  she  saw 
Hagane's  stern,  scarred  face,  thrilled  to  the  kindness  of  his 
voice  as  he  spoke  of  her  childhood,  and  pondered  anew  his 
meaning  in  the  final  admonition  to  loyalty.  Perhaps  even 


138  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

then  he  suspected  that  she  and  Pierre  were  more  than  friends. 
No,  she  could  not  believe  it !  Even  if  he  did  suspect,  it  was 
not  certain  that  he  would  disapprove.  Hagane  was  known 
everywhere  as  a  friend  to  foreigners.  He  had  travelled  much, 
and  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  splendor  and  the  oppor- 
tunities of  foreign  courts.  He  would  know  that,  as  wife  of  a 
diplomat,  no  matter  what  his  country,  she  could  serve  her 
own. 

At  any  rate  she  was  soon  again  to  meet  the  ex-daimyo.  She 
was  glad  at  least  of  this,  and  until  she  judged  for  herself, 
would  not  believe  absolutely  that  the  great  man  was  against  her. 
The  thought  of  seeing  him,  of  standing  near  him,  gave  her  a 
sort  of  gentle  strength  and  calm,  as  one  feels  when  standing 
beside  a  great  tree.  If  she  could  only  get  a  warning  to  her 
lover,  —  to  that  less  strong  but  dearly  loved  Pierre  !  Toward 
him  she  was  beginning  to  feel,  not  only  a  girl's  romantic  devo- 
tion, but  a  mother's  protecting  tenderness.  Here  in  her  own 
country  she  longed  to  have  her  arms  around  him,  shielding  and 
at  the  same  time  preventing  him  from  ignorance  and  prejudice. 
At  Hagane's  villa  he  was  possibly  to  face  an  ordeal,  unwarned 
by  a  hint  from  her.  A  little  hope  crept  closer.  Pierre  was  a 
passionate  admirer  of  all  the  arts  of  Japan,  Hagane  an  untiring 
collector.  At  the  Tabata  banquet  pictures  would  sxirely  be 
displayed.  It  was  possible  that  Pierre's  intelligence  and 
appreciation  might  win  him  the  most  powerful  of  friends. 

Most  of  the  night  before  the  banquet  the  young  girl  lay 
awake.  The  faint  light  of  the  andon  flowed  across  her,  melt- 
ing into  soft  grayness  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  It  ruled,  as 
with  a  heavy  pencil,  the  overlapping  boards  of  the  ceiling. 
She  counted  them,  but  to  no  purpose.  Sleep  perched  higher. 

"  A  flock  of  sheep  that  leisurely  pass  by,  —  one  after  one  ; 
bees  murmuring  — "  she  quoted  under  her  breath,  and  lay 
still  as  a  fallen  rose.  Sleep  grinned  down  from  the  small, 
high  branches  of  night.  She  thought  of  dark  running  water, 
of  a  green  curtain  stretched  across  nothingness,  of  a  deep, 
bottomless  pool ;  but  sleep,  the  raven,  never  stirred  a  feather. 

Beside  her  bed,  on  the  soft,  matted  floor,  lay  a  white  prayer- 
book,  a  tiny  vase  containing  a  few  sprays  of  ume  (plum-flower), 
and  a  chatelaine  watch  set  with  pearls.  The  watch  had  been 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       139 

a  graduation  present  from  Gwendolen.  From  time  to  time 
Yuki  lifted  the  animated  toy,  turned  its  face  toward  the  andon, 
and  held  it  to  her  ear,  only  to  fall  back  with  a  smothered  sigh. 

"  Will  the  blessed  daylight  never  come  ?  "  thought  Yuki  for 
the  hundredth  time.  Just  as  she  had  relinquished  all  hope  of 
it,  slumber  darted  down,  but  in  its  harsh  beak  was  a  dream. 

She  wandered,  silent,  on  a  great  black  moor.  Near  her 
feet,  as  she  moved,  a  dull  light  flickered,  turning  all  the 
dry  grass  red,  and  making,  as  it  were,  a  muffled  pathway  for 
her  guidance.  She  was  searching,  searching,  searching,  —  for 
what,  for  whom,  she  could  not  recall.  Her  memory  was  dark- 
ened like  the  moor,  and  its  dull  flashes  showed  alike  only 
empty  space.  Suddenly,  far  off  to  the  right,  a  steadier  beacon 
sprang.  Stars  seemed  to  be  climbing  up  by  a  stair  as  yet  in- 
visible. The  moor  quivered  into  an  even  glow,  —  a  mist  rising 
as  from  a  sea  of  blood.  Not  fifty  paces  from  her  eyes  stood 
Pierre.  He  smiled,  and  stretched  out  his  arms  to  her.  The 
red  glare  whitened  as  it  fell  on  him.  Then  she  knew  for  what 
she  had  been  searching.  She  would  have  fled  to  him,  but  found 
she  could  not  move  at  all. 

Out  of  the  Eastern  light  now  came  armed  men,  lances,  fal- 
chions, spears,  all  glittering  in  the  unreal  glow.  She  knew  it 
for  a  daimyo's  procession.  It  came  forward  swiftly  to  the  gap 
which  held  her  wide  from  Pierre.  Decked  horses,  bullock-carts 
with  huge  black-lacquered  wheels,  and  countless  warriors,  some 
mounted,  some  on  foot,  must  pass  her.  There  was  movement 
of  tramping  ;  the  horses  reared  and  struck  heavily  on  the  earth, 
yet  no  sound  came.  Staring  at  that  point  from  which  the 
long  procession  rose,  she  saw  it  still  curving  up  from  an  illim- 
itable horizon,  —  first  points  of  spears  and  banners ;  then 
heads;  then  men,  horses,  chariots,  —  an  endless  chain.  She 
crouched  nearer  to  the  ghosts  within  her  reach,  hoping  to  rec- 
ognize a  friendly  face,  or  at  least  a  kind  one,  whom  she  could 
importune  to  let  her  through  the  line.  She  peered  under  hoods 
and  helmets  and  into  the  bamboo-blinds  of  bullock-carts,  then 
fell  to  earth  with  a  scream,  for  the  faces  were  not  human ; 
each  was  an  ape  that  grinned  at  her.  In  Japan  no  dream  is 
more  prophetic  of  evil  than  a  dream  of  apes. 

At  the  agonized  cry  Suzume  ran  from  her  room  at  the  far 


140  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

side  of  the  house.  From  the  adjoining  room  came  Iriya. 
Fusuma  were  flung  wide. 

"Forgive  —  forgive  —  my  rudeness  in  honorably  disturbing 
you  at  this  hour,"  gasped  the  girl.  "It  was  a  dream,  so  ter- 
rible a  dream ! " 

"  Oh,  tell  it  to  the  nanten-bush,  Miss  Yuki.  There  is  one 
beside  your  doorstone ! "  screamed  little  Maru  as  she  came. 

"Too  late !"  muttered  Suzunie.  "Already  she  has  broken 
silence." 

"  She  shivers  with  fear,  poor  jewel,"  said  Iriya,  chafing  the 
icy  hands.  "  Suzume,  if  a  coal  of  fire  can  be  found,  brew  hot 
tea  for  her.  That  will  be  best." 

"  A  coal  always  sleeps  in  my  ashes,"  boasted  the  nurse.  "I 
shall  at  once  prepare  the  drink." 

"  Mother,  you  must  not  remain  awake  with  me  at  such  an 
hour,"  chattered  the  girl. 

"Dawn  is  very  near,  my  child.  I  hear,  —  yes,  listen,  —  I 
hear  the  first  sparrow." 

"Little  friendly  sparrow,  how  I  thank  you!"  cried  Yuki, 
aloud ;  then  throwing  herself  into  her  mother's  arms,  she 
began  to  sob. 

That  afternoon,  when  Yuki  stepped  into  the  big  double 
kuruma  where  Tetsujo  was  already  seated,  she  had  never,  in 
spite  of  sleeplessness  and  bad  dreams,  looked  more  beautiful. 
Iriya,  as  her  daughter  had  predicted,  found  on  this  last  day 
many  excellent  reasons  for  staying  at  home. 

The  robing  of  Yuki  had  occupied  several  hours.  First, 
the  thick  black  hair  must  be  done  in  the  latest  fashion. 
Happily  this,  ever  changing,  was  for  the  moment  in  a  style 
peculiarly  becoming  to  her.  A  great  wing  stood  out  at  each 
side,  concealing  all  but  the  lower  tips  of  the  ears.  A  third 
division,  puffed  high  above  the  forehead,  completed  a  shining 
framework  to  the  pale,  spiritual  face.  Among  the  coils  at 
the  back,  a  strip  of  dull  pink  silk  was  interwoven,  —  a  flesh- 
colored  centre  to  a  great  orchid  of  jet.  She  wore  a  single 
hairpin,  a  filigree  toy  of  gold  and  tinsel  representing  fireflies 
in  a  tiny  cage.  Her  gray  kimono  of  thin  silk  showed  the 
pink  undergarment.  The  delicate  hue  appeared  in  puffed  and 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       141 

wadded  edges  also  at  throat,  wrists,  and  around  the  hem. 
Cherry-flowers  were  dyed  at  intervals  into  the  substance  of 
the  gray.  The  obi,  that  crowning  glory  of  a  Japanese  woman's 
dress,  was  of  blue  gray  satin,  with  embroidered  fireflies  of 
gold. 

Even  surly  Tetsujo  smiled  as  this  fair  vision  stood  upon 
the  doorstone.  Little  Maru  set  the  high  lacquered  clogs 
with  pink  velvet  thongs  in  readiness.  Iriya  held  out  the 
long  black  adzuma-coat,  while  old  Suzume  shook  odors  of 
incense  and  sandalwood  from  the  crepe  folds  of  the  head- 
kerchief  called  "  dzukin." 

"  Sayonara  danna  san !  (master ! )  Sayonara  o  jo  san  ! "  called 
the  three  women  on  their  knees  in  the  doorway. 

"  Sayonara,  arigato  gozaimasu!"  (I  thank  you !  )  cried  Yuki 
in  return,  waving  a  slender  hand  from  the  side  of  the  jinrikisha. 
Tetsujo  seemed  not  to  hear. 

The  unusual  proximity  brought  to  the  girl,  and,  as  she 
justly  surmised,  to  Tetsujo  also,  an  unwholesome  embarrass- 
ment. Each  met  the  difficulty  in  a  characteristic  way,  —  Yuki 
by  throwing  her  full  interest  into  flashing  street  scenes  about 
her;  Tetsujo  by  a  morose  withdrawal  into  his  feudal  shell. 
Twice  Yuki  spoke  concerning  some  sight  that  gave  her 
pleasure.  Her  father's  discouraging  reply,  in  both  cases,  was 
a  grunt.  On  the  slope  of  Tabata  he  got  out,  shook  himself 
like  a  great  dog,  and  sent  Yuki  on  in  the  jinrikisha  until 
level  land  was  reached.  The  girl  thought  sadly  of  another 
hill-ascent,  so  short  a  time  before ;  of  Tetsujo's  kind,  loving 
face  as  he  mounted  the  slope  of  Kobinata,  his  hand  on  the 
arm  of  her  little  vehicle,  his  eyes  free  to  her  own.  Now  she 
was  being  carried  by  this  same  father  before  a  judge,  before 
a  man  who  could  help  to  rule  his  empire,  and  yet  who,  if  her 
fears  proved  stable,  now  stooped  to  coerce  a  wilful  girl. 

The  entrance  gate  and  court  o'f  the  Tabata  villa  had  taken 
on,  strangely,  the  look  of  its  master.  The  gate  was  of 
unpolished  cedar,  studded  with  brass  nails  half  a  foot  across, 
and  barred  with  hinges  that  might  have  swung  a  hill.  The 
massive  panels  now  stood  hospitably  ajar.  Above  them, 
leaned  a  single  pine,  red-stemmed  and  tall,  of  the  indigenous 
Japanese  variety.  It,  too,  resembled  Hagane.  The  house 


142  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

beyond  was  but  little  larger  or  more  pretentious  than  that  of 
Onda  the  kerai ;  but  the  variety  of  woods  used  in  finishing 
bespoke  both  taste  and  great  wealth.  The  roof,  with  its  dark- 
blue  scalloped  tiling  was  edged  at  the  rim  with  flattened  discs 
of  baked  clay,  and  in  the  centre  of  each,  in  rough  intaglio, 
curved  the  crest  of  the  Hagane  clan. 

Sombre  shoji  opened,  before  the  visitors  had  time  to  dis- 
mount. Just  within,  a  superb  suitate,  or  single  screen  of 
gold,  painted  in  snow-laden  bamboo  trees,  shut  out  interior 
vistas.  Yuki  was  conducted  to  a  woman's  apartment,  where 
she  could  remove  her  wraps  and  examine  her  shining  blue- 
black  coiffure  for  a  misplaced  hair.  Tetsujo  strode  to  the 
guest-room.  At  sight  of  Prince  Hagane  seated,  still  alone, 
he  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  Hagane  turned  with  a  smile,  — 
"You  love  not  our  foreign  friends,  good  Tetsujo." 

"I  love  them  as  our  cat  loves  pickled  plums,  my  liege." 

Hagane  laughed  indulgently.  "  At  least  you  can  distinguish 
the  men  from  the  women,  —  be  sure  to  give  me  the  signal 
should  one  of  the  young  males  prove  to  be  he  who  was  with 
Yuki  on  the  hatoba,  and  who  so  rudely  forced  an  entrance  to 
your  premises." 

"  I  shall  not  forget,"  said  Tetsujo. 

The  wide  room  was'  unchanged  but  for  an  unusually  elabo- 
rate flower-composition  in  the  tokonoma  (recess).  A  most 
valuable  set  of  pictures,  three  in  number,  and  all  mounted 
alike  on  priceless  brocade,  filled  the  soft,  gray  tinted  space 
beyond  the  flowers. 

Yuki  entered  alone.  Neither  of  the  men  had  heard  her  soft 
stockinged  step,  nor  her  gentle  pushing  aside  of  a  golden 
fusuma. 

"  Go  kigen  (august  health),  your  Highness,"  she  murmured, 
sinking  where  she  stood  and  touching  her  forehead  to  the  floor. 

"Ah,  it  is  Yuki-ko.  Come  nearer,  child,"  said  the  host, 
kindly.  As  she  moved  toward  him,  his  eyes  rested  with  frank 
delight  on  the  vision  of  her  beauty.  "  You  are  now  truly  a 
maiden  of  Japan.  That  last  image  of  you  in  Washington,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  was  of  a  small  brown  wren  of  Paris." 

"So  at  the  time  you  observed,  Augustness,  and  my  spirit 
thereat  was  poisoned  by  deep  shame." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       143 

"A  thing  so  easily  rectified  can  scarcely  be  a  cause  of 
shame,"  smiled  Hagane.  "  You  are  now  as  truly  Japanese 
as  even  your  jealous  father  could  desire.  Will  you  kindly 
clap  and  serve  us  tea,  small  pigeon  ?  " 

Yuki  obeyed  instantly  and  in  silence.  She  was  glad  to 
have  some  occupation  for  her  hands,  glad  that  her  eyes  had 
good  excuse  for  drooping.  In  Prince  Hagane's  presence  the 
old  magnetism,  the  old  troubled  sense  of  his  power,  again 
possessed  her.  Compared  with  him,  nothing  else  seemed 
real.  He  established  new  values  for  the  spirit.  One  in  the 
room  with  him  needed  no  vision  to  certify  his  actual  place. 
He  dominated  and  charged  the  air  around  him.  She  felt  his 
eyes  as  they  rested  on  her  slim  white  hands  ;  she  knew  when 
that  gaze  was  turned  away. 

Hagane,  indeed,  looked  long  at  the  girl.  At  times  he  ap- 
peared to  study  her  with  a  gentle,  speculative  gravity.  Of 
her  beauty  there  had  never  been  a  doubt,  and  to-day  she 
looked  her  best.  Hagane's  experience  of  women  had  been 
wide.  Now  he  was  saying  to  himself  that  this  was  the  fairest 
maiden  of  the  whole  world.  Her  beauty  filled  the  room  like 
perfume.  An  old  Chinese  poet  in  singing  of  her  would  have 
called  her  "  a  flake  of  white  jade  held  against  a  star."  In  the 
statesman's  mind  fragments  of  poetry  flitted,  similes  of  moon- 
light, of  white  blossoms  newly  opened  in  the  dew,  of  hillside 
grasses  in  the  wind,  of  a  young  spring  willow  with  a  nightin- 
gale in  the  branches.  Poetry  is  as  natural  to  all  classes  of 
Japanese  as  profanity  to  the  average  sailor.  Hagane  gained 
new  delight  in  imagery.  Should  a  foreigner  be  allowed  to 
bear  away  the  sweetness  of  this  flower?  No;  Tetsujo  was 
justified  in  his  indignation.  No  foreigner  should  have  her. 
She  must  marry  some  young  nobleman  of  her  own  land  ;  some 
honorable  and  brilliant  youth  with  a  future,  and  at  least  a  hint 
of  personal  beauty  to  match  her  own.  Hagane's  mind  ran 
rapidly  through  a  list  of  eligible  men.  Objections  rose  at 
every  point.  One  was  of  poor  health,  another  lived  a  life  of 
open  immorality,  a  third  possessed  a  mother  of  uncertain 
temper ;  Yuki-ko  must  not  have  her  young  life  crushed  by  the 
tyranny  of  a  shrewish  mother-in-law.  She  should  by  right  be 
married  to  a  statesman,  and  be  mistress  at  once  of  an  official 


144  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

home.  In  this  way  would  her  beauty  and  foreign  education  be 
brought  into  immediate  service.  If  he  himself  were  a  young 
man,  what  rapture  to  have  that  living  thing,  made  up  of  dew 
and  morning,  entirely  one's  own !  Hagane  drew  a  single  sharp 
breath  and  was  calm. 

On  the  gravelled  walk  of  the  entrance  court  came  the  sound 
of  a  carriage. 

"His  Excellency  Mister  Todd-u,  Madame  Todd-u,  Mees 
Todd-u,  Mister  Douje,  and  Mister  Le  Beau,"  announced  a 
servant  in  what  he  thought  English. 

Hagane  went  forward  to  meet  them.  "  Welcome  to  my 
cottage.  Are  we  all  known,  one  to  the  other  ?  " 

"Yes,  your  Highness,"  answered  Mr.  Todd,  "unless  Mr. 
Le  Beau  here  is  the  exception.'' 

"Mister  Le  Beau,"  repeated  Hagane,  very  distinctly.  "I 
remember  with  much  clearness  the  meeting  with  Mister  Le 
Beau.  In  your  admirable  dwelling  in  the  capital  city  of 
Washington  that  meeting  took  place.  Yuki  —  Miss  Onda  — 
performed  the  introduction  ceremony.  I  remember  well." 

"And  I,  your  Highness,"  instantly  answered  Pierre,  with  a 
succession  of  the  sprightly  bows  that  had  so  incensed  old  Onda. 
"  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  I  should  bear  in  memory  so  great 
an  event ;  but  I  could  not  have  dared  to  hope  for  so  great  a 
condescension  from  you." 

Hagane  replied  by  a  smile  and  a  nod.  The  latter  might 
have  served  equally  for  the  kerai  who,  well  within  the  shadow 
of  Mrs.  Todd,  made  vehement  signs  of  corroboration  to  his 
daimyo. 

The  host  then  asked  of  the  party,  "  Shall  I  not  order  for 
you  foreign  chairs  ?  We  keep  them  in  the  storehouse  for 
such  occasions." 

"Thank  you  kindly,  Prince,"  answered  Mrs.  Todd  for  all; 
"  we  '11  take  the  floor.  In  Rome  we  do  as  the  Romans  do." 
With  a  lunge  the  good  lady  disposed  herself  in  the  centre  of 
the  apartment,  sitting,  as  it  were,  at  her  own  feet.  The  others 
placed  themselves  near  her,  making  roughly  the  outline  of  a 
horseshoe,  Dodge  being  at  one  end,  with  Yuki  beside  him,  and 
Prince  Hagane  at  the  other. 

Gwendolen  had  with  difficulty  kept  Pierre  away  from  Yuki. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       145 

"  Remember,"  she  had  warned,  "  this  may  be  a  sort  of  Sher- 
lock Holmes  affair  for  making  you  two  betray  yourselves  and 
each  other.  You  can't  be  too  careful.  Old  Hagane  is  a  vibrat- 
ing lodestone  of  uncanny  intuition,  and  Onda  a  parental  ava- 
lanche just  ready  to  slide!  " 

In  the  effort  to  keep  his  hungry  eyes  from  Yuki,  Pierre 
began  to  explore  the  room.  His  attention  was  first  caught  by 
the  arrangement  of  dwarf  pine  branches  and  brown  cones,  in 
combination  with  straggling  sprays  of  a  yellow  orchid.  Then 
he  saw  the  three  paintings  beyond.  "  Saint  Raphael !  what 
are  those  ?  "  he  murmured  under  his  breath,  and  made  as  if  to 
rise  from  the  floor.  All  turned  to  him ;  he  sought  only  the 
eyes  of  his  host.  "  Your  Highness,"  he  pleaded,  his  face 
vital  with  intelligence,  "  if  not  unpardonably  rude,  may  I  rise 
and  examine  more  closely  those  marvellous  paintings  ?  " 

Hagane  reflected  a  hint  of  his  brightness.  "With  greatest 
pleasure.  They  are,  of  course,  hung  to  be  seen.  I  am  honored 
that  they  attract  your  notice." 

Pierre  rushed  to  the  tokonoma,  taking  instinctively  the 
attitudes  of  a  self-forgetting  connoisseur. 

"  Say,  I  can't  stay  out  of  this !"  cried  the  minister,  and  crooked 
his  long  legs  into  the  angles  of  a  katydid  in  his  efforts  to  rise. 
Following  the  two  others,  he  reached  the  tokonoma,  planting 
himself,  feet  wide  apart,  exactly  in  front. 

Such  pictures,  painted  in  sets  of  three  and  mounted  in 
single,  flexible  panels  of  rich  brocade,  were  designed  for  hang- 
ing in  the  broad  tokonoma  of  noblemen's  houses,  or  in  the 
living-rooms  of  priests.  This  set  was  in  monochrome,  on 
paper  which  had  been  stained  by  time  to  the  color  of  old 
ivory.  The  central  painting  represented  a  famous  Chinese 
poet  sitting  in  meditation  upon  a  misty  mountain-ledge.  The 
lateral  ones  were  landscapes,  one  of  winter  snow,  the  other, 
summer  fulness.  Each  illustrated  a  well-known  verse  of  the 
poet. 

"So  this  is  Japanese  art,  — the  real  thing,  —  is  it  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Todd  of  Pierre.  "  You  must  excuse  me,  Prince,"  he  went 
on  to  his  host,  "  Pierre  is  always  reading  and  talking  about 
the  beaiity  of  it,  but  I  '11  be  gosh  —  I  '11  be  shot,  I  mean,  — 
if  I  can  tell  what  it  is  about.  Over  in  my  own  country,  now, 

10 


146  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

I  can  distinguish  a  tree  from  a  vase  of  Johnny- jump-ups,  and 
a  farmyard  from  a  nood  female ;  but  with  these  pictures, 
somehow,  the  harder  I  look  the  more  I  seem  to  be  standing  on 
my  head." 

"  Cy,  I  am  ashamed  of  you !  I  love  Japanese  art,  your 
Highness,  and  so  does  my  daughter  !."  expostulated  Mrs.  Todd, 
from  the  floor.  "  It  is  so  nice,  and  thin,  and  cool.  I  always 
recommend  Japanese  pictures  to  my  friends  for  their  summer 
cottages,  and  I  am  hanging  our  Legation  with  them  now. 
Dear  Mrs.  Y.,  of  Washington, —  you  know  the  name,  of  course, 
—  has  the  most  gorgeous  screen  of  gold-leaf,  painted  in  wild- 
flowers.  When  she  has  a  big  reception  she  always  puts  it 
upside  down  behind  her  sofa,  because  it  has  more  flowers  at 
the  bottom  than  at  the  top,  —  and  nobody  ever  notices  the 
difference." 

The  young  Frenchman's  cheek  flushed.  He  leaned  more 
closely  to  the  paintings,  partly  to  hide  his  expression.  Gwen- 
dolen exchanged  horrified  glances  with  Dodge,  then  the  sense 
of  fun  in  both  triumphed.  Pierre  spoke  next  in  low  tones,  so 
that  none  but  Hagane  could  hear  him.  "  I  am  only  a  begin- 
ner, —  a  student.  There  has  been  little  published  in  foreign 
languages  about  your  wonderful  art,  and  European  collections 
are  rare.  Am  I  wrong  in  thinking  these  to  be  something 
unusual  ?  The  lines  of  the  three  flow  together  like  music, 
yet  each  is  a  separate  composition.  We  have  nothing  like  it !  " 

"  They  are  masterpieces  by  Kano  Motonobu,"  said  Hagane. 

"  Mon  Dieu  ! "  breathed  Pierre,  and  seemed  as  if  he  would 
devour  with  new  scrutiny  the  marvellous  visions. 

The  host's  eyes  remained  fastened  upon  his  enthusiastic 
guest.  He  watched  every  flicker  of  intelligence,  of  changing 
expression.  Suddenly  the  young  man  turned,  met  the  look, 
and  smiled.  It  was  like  sunlight  on  a  meadow  when  Pierre 
smiled.  "Your  Highness,"  he  murmured,  "a  touch  of  art 
should  make  the  whole  world  kin !  Is  it  not  so  ?  Teach  me 
something  more  of  this  new  mystery  of  beauty,  —  be  my 
friend!" 

Hagane  lowered  his  lids  quickly,  but  in  the  downward  sweep 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Yuki's  eager,  upturned  face.  She  had 
forgotten  herself  and  her  immediate  companions.  Her  spirit 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       147 

had  crept  over  to  the  strangely  mated  two  who  stood  before 
the  pictures. 

"  Monsieur  honors  me  by  offering  such  a  privilege,"  said 
Hagane,  in  an  expressionless  tone.  He  bowed  slightly.  Pierre 
drew  back,  feeling  unaccountably  rebuffed.  Why  had  the 
great  man  said  "  Monsieur  "  ?  Before  that,  the  plain  term 
"  Mister  "  had  been  employed.  Vanity,  never  very  far  from 
the  citadel  of  Pierre's  being,  posited  an  explanation.  "He 
calls  you  by  the  French  title,"  said  Vanity,  "because  he 
realizes  that  no  Occidental  of  another  country  than  France 
could  show  such  appreciation."  Pierre  recalled  the  awful  re- 
marks of  Todd,  the  deeper  idiocy  of  his  complacent  lady. 
"Yes,  that  is  it,"  said  Pierre  to  Vanity. 

Hagane  had  now  re-seated  himself.  He  was  a  few  yards 
directly  across  from  Dodge  and  Yuki.  He  studied  furtively 
the  countenance  of  Dodge.  With  this  regard  he  was  quickly 
satisfied.  The  American's  clear  brown  eyes  were  as  free  from 
guile  as  those  of  a  setter  pup.  He  turned  again  to  Pierre,  who 
had  now  thrown  himself,  in  a  graceful  attitude  of  lounging, 
beside  fair  Gwendolen.  Gwendolen  deflected  the  glance  from 
her  companion.  Her  merry  hazel  eyes  dwelt  with  bright 
friendliness  and  an  utter  absence  of  awe  upon  the  titled  host. 
For  the  first  time  Hagane  noticed  her,  looked  directly  at  her, 
perceived  in  her  something  a  little  more  than  blown  golden 
hair  and  girlish  audacity.  Something  in  her  gaze  gave  him 
an  impression  of  pliant  boughs,  elastic  yet  imperishable.  This 
trained  commander  seldom  failed  to  recognize  the  intangible, 
unmistakable  flash  of  the  thing  we  call,  for  a  better  name, 
character.  Something  in  answer  to  it,  a  salute  of  his  own 
brave  spirit,  rose  to  the  deep  eyes.  A  little  thrill  passed  over 
Gwendolen.  "  Gracious !  "  she  thought  to  herself.  "  That 's 
no  mere  war-engine,  that's  a  man,  and  a  great  one!"  To 
cover  her  vague  embarrassment  she  leaned  to  him,  letting 
coquetry  blot  the  real  from  her  face,  and  pleaded,  "  Show  us 
some  more  pictures,  please,  your  Highness.  I  hear  that  you 
have  storehouses  crammed  with  them.  Even  I,  in  spite  of  what 
mother  says,  appreciate  those  in  the  tokonoma.  Please  !  " 

Hagane  bowed  unsmiling.  The  mere  dainty  allurements  of 
a  pretty  girl  seemed  to  him  almost  an  affront,  as  if  his  old 


148  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

nurse  should  give  him  a  kite  to  fly,  or  a  top  to  spin.  He  fell 
into  thought.  After  a  moment's  somewhat  uncomfortable 
silence  he  said  slowly,  "  There  is  one  painting  I  should  like 
to  show  this  honorable  group  of  friends ;  but  first  its  strange 
history  must  be  told,  and  I  fear  that  I  have  not  the  fluent 
English." 

"Oh,  we  simply  must  have  the  story!  Your  English  is  all 
right,  Prince ;  I  '11  declare  it  is.  Please  tell  us,"  cried  Gwen- 
dolen the  irrepressible,  and  she  moved  a  few  inches  closer. 

"Yes,  your  Highness,  your  English  is  wonderful.  You 
don't  make  half  the  grammatical  mistakes  that  I  do  now ! " 
supplemented  Mrs.  Todd. 

Hagane  drew  a  slow  glance  around  the  semicircle,  plunged 
his  hands  within  his  silken  sleeves,  and  began  to  speak.  His 
voice  was  very  deep,  and  in  some  consonant  sounds,  of  a  slight 
harshness.  The  vowels  were  full,  rich,  and  resonant.  His 
speech  held  at  command  a  certain  strange,  almost  benumbing 
magnetism,  a  compelling  response,  such  as  one  experiences  in 
the  after-vibrations  of  a  great  bell. 

"  Oh,  I  feel  in  my  bones  that  it  is  going  to  be  a  ghost  story, 
a  real  one,"  whispered  Gwendolen,  with  a  shiver  of  excitement. 

Hagane  did  not  notice  the  remark.  Todd  and  Mr.  Dodge 
sent  her,  in  unison,  a  bright  glance  of  appreciation. 

"  The  painting  for  which  I  now  attempt  the  speaking,"  said 
Hagane,  "made,  for  centuries,  the  chief  altarpiece  of  a  cer- 
tain old  temple  in  Yamato.  It  was  a  very  old  temple,  — yes, 
among  the  very  first  built  in  Nippon  for  Buddhist  worship. 
One  night,  when  the  black  sky  was  rent  with  storm,  and  light- 
ning hurled  out  many  terrible  spears,  one  flash  found  that 
temple,  burning  it  swiftly  to  a  square  of  low  red  ashes.  Every- 
thing burned  ;  gold  and  brass  and  iron  melted  like  wax  —  all 
but  the  picture  ;  and  three  days  after  they  found  it  still  on 
red  coals,  glowing  more  fierce  and  red  than  they.  Nothing 
was  harmed  in  it  except  the  brocaded  edge,  and  that  was  soon 
replaced.  This  is  the  picture  you  shall  see." 

"  Oh  !  "  breathed  Gwendolen. 

"  Afterward  it  was  conveyed  to  a  famous  temple  of  Kioto ; 
but  the  head  priest,  the  Ajari,  being  of  timid  thought,  re- 
fused to  shelter  it.  By  his  order  it  was  carried  in  secrecy  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       149 

a  much  smaller  temple,  very  distant,  in  the  province  of  Konda, 
where  is  my  father's  home  of  birth." 

He  paused.  The  listeners  all  shifted  position  a  little,  all 
but  Yuki,  who  sat  upright  and  motionless,  her  soul  living  in 
her  long  dark  eyes. 

"Even  in  so  small  a  temple  its  power  began  to  attract  many 
worshippers  and  wonder-seekers.  The  fame  of  it  grew  like 
the  grasses  of  summer.  At  the  time  of  our  Restoration,  the 
beginning  of  that  cycle  of  our  time  called  'Mei-ji,'  its  destruc- 
tion was  officially  decreed.  It  was  designated  '  the  object  of 
slavish  superstition.'  My  father  was  requested,  with  his  own 
hands,  to  annihilate  it." 

"Ah,"  muttered  Pierre,  with  feeling.  "But,  thank  the 
good  God,  it  wasn't  destroyed,  since  you  are  soon  to  show 
it!" 

One  of  Mrs.  Todd's  thick  feet  had  gone  to  sleep.  She 
stretched  it  out  under  her  skirt  with  great  caution. 

Hagane  looked  up  into  Pierre's  bright  eyes.  "  As  you 
observe,  Monsieur,  it  was  not  annihilated.  My  father  made 
request  of  Government  that  it  be  sold  privately  to  him, 
and  in  return  he  gave  pledge  that  it  never  again  be  used  — 
publicly  —  as  the  altarpiece.  Thus  it  came  into  my  posses- 
sion." 

There  had  been  something  suggestive,  almost  sinister,  in 
his  use  of  the  word  "  publicly."  His  glance  had  just  brushed 
Yuki's  face.  Gwendolen's  hands  turned  cold.  "  But  what 
power  needed  to  be  suppressed  —  what  harm  could  a  picture 
do  ?  "  cried  the  blonde  girl,  eagerly. 

Before  attempting  an  answer,  Hagane  clapped  for  a  servant, 
and,  with  a  few  low  words,  sent  him  off  for  the  picture.  He 
turned,  looking  first  at  Gwendolen,  then  at  Yuki.  "It  is  a 
painting  of  the  Red  God,  Aizen  Bosatsu.  It  was  prayed  to, 
and  sacrificed  to  by  men  and  women  who  loved.  Generally 
they  were  persons  who  wished  to  become  the  man  and  wife 
against  the  wishes  of  parents  and  guardians  ;  less  often,  of  some 
guilty  one  already  married,  and  wishing  an  impure  love.  Its 
strange  power  is  this,  —  that  one  consumed  with  passion,  mak- 
ing offerings,  passing  long  nights  in  prayer,  and  crying  forth 
incessantly  desperate  invocation,  may  see  the  red  flesh  and 


150  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

crimson  lotos  petals  fall  away  like  shrivelled  bark,  revealing 
the  white  and  shining  face  of  Kwannon  the  Merciful.  This  is 
the  reward  of  those  who  pray  for  the  strength  to  be  loyal, 
who  wish,  in  their  deeper  essence,  the  ultimate  Good.  But  the 
painting  has  another  —  and  more  awful  power  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Lord,"  whispered  Yuki,  speaking  now  for  the 
first  time. 

"  Should  the  mad  soul  clamor  on  for  earthly  desire,  ignor- 
ing what  is  high,  —  then  will  the  Red  God  burn,  burn,  burn, 
even  as  the  heated  heart  of  evil  passion  burns ;  and  the 
power  of  that  suppliant  to  do  evil  will  be  strengthened. 
Circumstances  may  be  compelled,  and  the  wish,  however 
harmful,  be  attained.  With  each  new  triumph  of  a  soul,  the 
merit  of  the  picture  deepens ;  with  each  malefic  use,  the  evil 
grows  more  strong." 

"  What,  Lord,  would  be  the  penalty  —  what  to  a  wicked 
soul  would  be  the  price  ?  "  asked  Yuki's  bloodless  lips. 

"Your  early  training  was  Buddhistic,  child,"  answered 
Hagane,  in  the  gentlest  of  voices.  "  You  know  the  doctrine 
of  rebirth  !  Instinct  tells  you  the  price  already." 

Tetsujo  had  withdrawn  his  eyes  from  their  fierce  contem- 
plation of  his  daughter,  as  if  the  sight  continually  fed  his 
anger.  He  rocked  now,  with  downcast  eyes  and  folded 
arms,  on  his  cushion,  ignoring  everything  but  his  own  black 
thoughts. 

Gwendolen  tried  in  vain  to  catch  Yuki's  eye.  She  saw  that 
already  Yuki  was  betraying  what  Hagane  and  old  Onda 
wished  to  know.  The  moment  was  fatal  and  memorable. 

The  servant  now  returned,  bearing  a  long  box  of  dull  red 
lacquer.  Yuki  shivered  so  that  all  saw  her. 

"Examine  the  quaint  carvings  of  devils,  Monsieur,"  said 
Hagane  to  Pierre,  with  light  affability.  As  Pierre  leaned  to 
take  the  box,  Yuki  gave  an  imperceptible  start  forward,  caught 
her  breath,  and  then  resumed  self-control. 

"  Gems,  all  of  them  ! "  cried  Pierre,  in  impersonal  delight. 
"They  are  unbelievable  in  cleverness.  Each  seems  an  evil 
passion  caught  in  fleeting  human  form." 

"Monsieur  is  intuitive.  They  are  hungry  spirits  of  the 
Gaki  underworld,  creatures  of  ever  aching,  ever  unsatisfied 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       151 

desires.  The  Hindoo  scriptures  call  them  *  preta.'  Perhaps 
you  Christians  have  not  such  uncomfortable  passions,  ne  ?  " 

Gwendolen  had  another  shock  to  receive.  In  this  new 
light,  flashed  past  before  one  realized  its  presence,  Hagane 
showed  to  her  the  eyes  of  a  demon,  a  creature  of  power  and  of 
passion.  She  recoiled  from  him  as  from  the  supernatural. 
The  new  discomfort  was  vented  on  the  box.  "  Let  us  have 
the  picture,  Prince,  or  I  '11  go  wild.  Please,  somebody  sit  on 
that  box,  —  the  squirming  devils  give  me  a  waking  nightmare. 
Why  did  anybody  want  to  carve  such  things  ?  " 

Hagane  smiled  a  very  quiet  smile,  just  on  the  borderland 
between  his  demon  and  his  statesman's  self.  Yuki,  too, 
watched  him,  with  an  intensity  of  which  she  was  not  aware. 
Slowly  he  lifted  the  lid  of  the  box,  and  took  out  a  long 
cylindrical  roll  wrapped  in  some  faded  stuff  that  exhaled 
a  strange,  stifling  perfume,  as  of  old  shrines.  Then  he  rose, 
with  his  usual  dignified,  deliberate  motions.  The  servant, 
who  had  been  waiting,  hande"d  him  a  small  wand  tipped 
with  a  claw  of  ivory,  such  as  is  used  everywhere  in  Japan 
for  hanging  kakemono.  Passing  the  cord  over  a  brass  stud 
on  the  wall,  he  leaned  over  and  downward,  unrolling  the 
painting  by  slow  inches. 

At  first  nothing  appeared  but  a  groundwork  of  dark  silk, 
a  surface  crackled  and  blackened  as  by  heat  and  time.  A 
pointed,  thin  flame  first  arose,  then  a  fiery  crown  of  filigree 
work  that  hid  suggestions  of  strange  animal  forms,  then  a 
staring  countenance  of  an  archaic,  Hindoo  type,  provocative, 
menacing,  appalling !  Shoulders  rose,  swathed  thick  iu 
springing  flame ;  a  body  hung  with  jewels  of  red  gold  ;  arms 
bended  at  the  elbow,  crossed  legs  just  visible  through  drapery, 
and  lastly  the  incandescent  throne  of  a  vermilion  lotos.  The 
thing  glowed  wet  and  fresh,  like  new-spilled  blood.  Before  its 
artistic  wonder  was  the  wonder  of  vitality,  for  the  image 
lived,  —  not  in  a  world  of  heavy  human  flesh,  nor  yet  in 
realms  ethereal,  but  in  some  raging  holocaust  where  the  two 
worlds  chafe  and  meet.  One  flaming  hand  grasped  a  bunch 
of  golden  arrows ;  from  the  other  depended  coils  of  gold  and 
orange  rope.  Each  petal  of  the  lotos  throne  stood  sharp  and 
clear  in  an  outline  of  hot  gold,  and  the  long,  parallel  veinings 


152  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

were  of  copper.  In  a  room  suddenly  darkened  it  should 
spring  out  in  illumination  of  its  own.  A  scorching  breath 
blew  from  it.  The  leer  on  the  god's  face  deepened. 

"Ugh!"  shuddered  Mrs.  Todd.  She  tried  to  check  the 
exclamation,  and  apparently  none  but  Dodge,  who  sat  beside 
her,  heard  the  cry. 

"  Be  careful,"  whispered  Dodge.  "  He  does  not  tell  you 
half.  Men  have  fought  and  died  for  that  painting.  It  is 
one  of  the  famous  things  of  Japan,  and  almost  impossible 
to  see.  He  surely  has  a  reason  in  this  display." 

Yuki  and  Gwendolen  were  equally  still  and  voiceless. 

"  Mother  of  God  ! "  Pierre  ejaculated,  ignoring  ceremony, 
and  running  to  the  place  where  the  painting,  now  in  full 
length,  hung.  "  What  a  masterpiece !  What  torment  of 
genius  !  There  is  passion  in  the  very  curves  of  the  petals,  — 
how  they  answer  the  lines  of  drapery,  even  the  lines  of  his 
ugly  face !  The  flaming  halo,  repeats  it  like  a  fugue.  Mon 
Dieu!  One  scarcely  can  endure  such  supreme  beauty."  His 
voice  broke.  He  turned  away.  Hagane  watched  him  curi- 
ously. "  Your  Highness,"  said  he,  after  a  very  brief  interval, 
and  now  with  frank,  tear-bright  eyes  on  the  prince,  "  I  know 
not  the  morality  of  it,  but  I,  for  one,  would  not  be  willing 
to  pray  in  such  fashion  that  this  superb  and  glorious  monster 
should  fade  to  a  silly  white.  Rather  would  I  add  fury  to  him, 
and  evil,  —  if  that  would  keep  his  flame  inspired !  " 

Abruptly  Hagane  turned  his  face  to  Yuki.  For  some 
moments  past  he  had  ignored  her.  She  had  no  time  to  strug- 
gle for  self-control.  Her  thought  lay  beached  on  the  ashen 
face.  The  two  eyes  met.  In  an  instant,  as  if  weary,  Hagane 
turned  away,  and,  crossing  the  room,  seated  himself  near  Onda. 

"  Shall  we  proceed  to  serve  the  food,  your  Highness  ? " 
asked  another  servant,  on  his  knees,  in  the  doorway. 

"  Yes,  at  once.  First  roll  the  picture  up,  and  remove  it  to 
the  kura." 

The  banquet  was  in  pure  Japanese  fashion.  The  enter- 
tainment began  with  the  usual  foolish  mistakes  on  the  part  of 
the  foreigners.  Yuki  was  last  of  all  to  drift  back  into  the 
world  of  the  commonplace ;  Pierre,  of  the  party,  being  in  high- 
est spirits.  Everything  delighted  him,  —  the  food,  the  trays, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       153 

the  little  "  ne-san  "  hired  for  the  occasion  to  pour  sake,  the 
sake  itself;  the  sake  bottles,  —  all !  Kecklessly  now,  he  forced 
a  position  beside  Yuki,  taking  her  unresponsiveness  as  part 
of  the  decorum  expected  of  a  young  girl  in  Japan.  Hagane 
showed  him  special  favor,  plying  him  with  wine,  and  exchang- 
ing numberless  tiny  cups,  each  one  a  step,  for  Pierre,  into 
further  indiscretion.  Yuki  felt  hope  slowly  die  within  her. 
She  saw  beyond  doubt  that  Hagane  was  against  Pierre  and 
with  her  father.  She  knew  that  she  had  been  chief  factor  in 
the  betrayal  of  their  love.  For  a  moment  she  hated,  she  even 
despised  a  little,  the  man  she  had  been  taught  to  look  on  as 
a  god. 

Never  had  a  sweeter  sound  come  to  her  ears  than  Mrs. 
Todd's  loud  command,  "  Well,  Cy,  if  we  are  to  go  at  all,  we 
had  better  start.  This  sake  is  beginning  to  do  queer  things 
to  my  legs ! " 

At  the  farewell  ceremonies  on  the  doorstep,  Hagane  man- 
aged to  whisper  to  his  kerai,  "  Watch  her  closely.  Let  her 
not  leave  your  sight  until  you  have  heard  again  from  me. 
There  is  instant  danger !  " 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

PROSPER  RONSARD,  the  French  minister  to  Tokio,  had 
formed  very  early  in  life  the  ambition  to  be  a  Far  Eastern 
diplomat.  His  way  to  the  goal  was  made  in  regular  steps  of 
enjoyment.  First  there  had  been  Morocco,  scarcely  more  to 
him  now  than  a  far-off  memory  of  yellow  sands  and  white 
cubes  of  houses,  both  emphasized,  at  effective  intervals,  by 
theatrical  groups  of  palms.  Then  came  Cairo,  —  gay,  entranc- 
ing Cairo !  His  life  there  held  experiences  that  old  age 
might  lick  its  chops  over.  Leaving  all  else  aside,  the  one 
flame-tree  near  his  hotel  window  in  Cairo  would  have  burned 
that  memory  deep.  Then  there  were  French  Siam,  Tonquin, 
Nagasaki,  and,  at  last,  Tokio. 

The  hot  blood  of  the  East  flowed  now,  as  native,  in  Ron- 
sard's  veins  ;  but  the  keen,  calculating,  questioning  judgment 
of  the  European  statesman  kept  cool  tenure  of  bis  brain.  In 
Tokio  he  found  all  past  Eastern  trickery  to  be  useless  chaff. 
Here  were  no  inferior  Orientals  to  browbeat,  threaten,  or  cajole. 
From  Tonquin  to  Nagasaki  he  had  crossed  more  than  the 
Yellow  Sea ;  he  had  sailed  over  three  submerged  centuries 
and  landed  on  a  green  cliff.  Here,  in  Japan,  were  men  with 
reasons  as  clear  as  his  own,  and  methods  that  often  proved 
themselves  more  effective.  In  the  mission  to  Tokio  he  soon 
realized  that  his  full  ambition  had  been  won.  Every  faculty, 
trained  through  long  apprenticeship,  was  here  needed ;  and 
it  was  part  of  his  intelligence  that  at  times  he  realized  them 
all  as  insufficient.  That  span  of  "Mysterious  Asia"  stretched 
between  Algiers  and  Tonquin,  brilliant  and  pleasurable  in- 
deed, was,  from  the  diplomatic  standpoint,  a  mere  dank  sub- 
way coming  up  at  the  central  station,  Tokio. 

The  fascinations  of  the  East,  potent  as  they  were,  could  not 
quite  wean  the  Parisian  from  love  of  his  native  home.  Visits 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       155 

to  France  were  made  with  strict  regularity.  It  was  his  wont 
to  declare,  and  with  much  show  of  verity,  that  the  perpetual 
resident  of  Paris  could  never  know  its  real  charm.  To  live 
there  always,  paying  bills,  meeting  disappointments,  enduring 
illnesses  with  the  inartistic  accompaniments  of  medicine  boxes 
and  physicians,  was  like  having  an  inexhaustible  supply  of 
one's  favorite  vintage  kept  in  a  water-cooler  on  the  back  gal- 
lery. Ronsard  had  the  true  sensualist's  gift  of  extracting 
flavors. 

On  these  home  visits  he  was  eagerly  sought  after  by  his 
friends  and  club  fellows,  and  by  the  more  intelligent  among 
fashionable  women.  In  this  latter  category  shone  pre-eminent 
the  widowed  Princess  Olga  Le  Beau.  Rumor  often  had  it 
that  his  next  return  to  the  East  would  be  brightened  by  the 
wedded  companionship  of  this  lady,  but  each  time  Rumor  hid 
her  face. 

The  princess  had  married  while  yet  a  schoolgirl.  Pierre, 
her  only  child,  was  born  within  the  year  of  the  marriage. 
Before  the  boy  was  ten,  his  father,  Gaston  Le  Beau,  died  by 
accident.  Slander  called  it  suicide,  and  hinted  that  the  prin- 
cess was  the  cause.  Nothing,  however,  could  have  been  more 
decorous  or  more  becoming  than  the  mourning  of  the  princess. 
As  slowly  she  came  back  to  the  world  of  fashion,  Pierre  was 
sent  away  to  England  to  be  educated.  A  growing  stripling 
of  a  boy  is  a  fatal  gauge  to  his  mother's  waning  youth.  He 
was  seldom  pressed  to  come  home  during  the  holidays,  Prin- 
cess Olga  preferring  to  visit  him  in  England  (a  country  which 
she  loathed),  or  sometimes  to  take  small  tours  with  him 
through  infrequented  parts  of  Europe. 

After  his  very  creditable  career  at  an  English  university, 
she  urged  him  tenderly  further  to  improve  his  mind  by 
travel,  and  hinted  that  she  would  prefer  a  diplomatic  career 
for  him.  As  she  spoke,  she  was  thinking  of  Ronsard,  but 
doubtless  had  her  reasons  for  not  mentioning  him.  It  was 
not  until  the  young  man's  year  of  residence  in  America,  and 
his  own  choice  of  Tokio  as  a  place  at  which  to  open  his  diplo- 
matic primer,  that  the  power  of  this  intimate  family  friend 
had  been  invoked.  As  we  have  seen,  Princess  Olga  gave  the 
name,  by  letter,  to  her  son.  Pierre  wrote  promptly,  but  the 


156  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

hastened  departure  of  the  Todds,  and  his  determination  to 
sail  with  them  and  Yuki,  would  have  given  him  no  time  to 
receive  a  long  and  thoughtful  answer,  even  had  such  been 
written. 

Count  Ronsard's  motto,  more  or  less  rigidly  adhered  to  in 
dealings  with  his  own  sex,  was  "  never  to  write  a  letter  or  to 
destroy  one."  Knowing  that  the  young  man  was  soon  to  ap- 
pear, he  calmly  waited  the  event.  In  official  life  the  French 
minister  was,  of  course,  designated  by  the  simple  republican 
title  of  "  Monsieur."  With  his  friends,  the  old  aristocratic 
"Count"  was  permitted  and  enjoyed.  To  have  slipped  Pierre 
into  a  second,  third,  or  fourth  secretaryship  would  have  been  a 
simple  matter.  Count  Ronsard,  however,  wisely  determined 
to  judge  the  character  of  the  applicant  before  admitting  him 
into  the  bachelor  comradeship  of  the  Legation.  This  square 
white  residence,  set  in  the  midst  of  a  fine,  walled,  daimyo  gar- 
den left  over  from  feudal  days,  had  never,  during  the  count's 
long  term  of  service,  known  feminine  sway.  High  orgies, 
balls,  and  state  dinners  were  held  there  in  plenty,  but  the 
only  women  who  appeared  at  them  were  invited  guests  or 
hired  geisha.  The  master  of  the  house  carried  his  bachelor 
fancy  so  far  that  he  insisted  upon  a  similar  uudetached  state 
being  preserved  by  his  subordinates. 

Count  Ronsard  was  a  dilettante  in  music  and  art,  and  a  pro- 
fessional lover  of  beauty,  especially  in  the  form  presented  by 
his  friend  and  countryman,  Bouguereau.  His  favorite  writer 
was  Daudet ;  his  favorite  luxury,  eating.  Withal,  he  was  a 
trained  statesman  and  a  subtle  diplomat. 

Pierre,  upon  his  arrival  in  Tokio,  had  been  urged  to  make 
the  Legation  his  temporary  home.  His  first  question  was, 
of  course,  for  the  appointment.  Count  Ronsard  gave  evasive 
reply.  As  this  continued  to  be  the  case,  Pierre  felt,  in  de- 
cency, that  he  must  cease  to  press  the  matter.  As  days 
passed,  and  the  count,  so  indulgent,  fatherly,  and  candid  in 
other  things,  continued  to  avoid  the  discussion  of  Pierre's 
hopes,  the  young  man  could  not  fail  to  draw  the  conclusion 
that  the  elder  had  his  personal  reasons  for  not  wishing  to 
come  to  a  decision.  Pierre  did  not  greatly  care.  The  anxiety 
about  Yuki  kept  his  thoughts  busy.  More  than  once  he  had 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       157 

been  on  the  point  of  confiding  in  Count  Ronsard  and  of  ask- 
ing advice,  but  each  time  something  prevented.  Mrs.  Todd, 
in  this  stress,  was  his  unfailing  sympathizer.  Gwendolen  was 
kind,  but  he  knew  well  that  there  was  now,  and  always  had 
been,  a  certain  reserve  in  her  approbation  of  his  love-affair. 
The  laxity  of  hours  at  the  French  Legation,  and  the  absence 
of  all  restrictions,  suited  well  the  boy's  present  restless 
temper. 

The  morning  after  Prince  Hagane's  banquet  he  woke  to  a 
feeling  of  heaviness  and  depression  that  sake  could  not  alto- 
gether account  for.  Small  bits  of  recollection  began  to  sting 
him  like  brier-points  left  under  the  skin.  He  saw  now,  iu 
Yuki's  white  face,  a  protest  which,  twelve  hours  before,  he 
had  wilfully  ignored.  Gwendolen's  eyes  flashed  again  indig- 
nant warning.  The  extreme  attentiveness  of  the  host,  a 
lurid  after-image  of  the  pictured  god,  the  innumerable  small 
cups  that,  at  the  time,  had  seemed  innocuous,  came  over  him  in 
humiliating  memories.  "  Gwendolen  was  right.  It  was  all  a 
test,  and  I,  as  usual,  played  the  impulsive  fool !"  thought  he, 
bitterly. 

On  reaching  the  breakfast-room  he  was  pleasantly  surprised 
to  find  his  host  still  at  table.  A  heap  of  letters,  opened  and 
unopened,  showed  the  cause  of  delay.  Several  with  foreign 
postmarks  were  at  Pierre's  plate.  As  the  young  man  entered, 
Ronsard  touched  an  electric  button,  giving  four  short,  peculiar 
rings.  A  few  seconds  later  a  servant  appeared  with  a  tray  of 
steaming  coffee  and  food. 

"  What  news  from  war-centres,  your  Excellency  ? "  was 
Pierre's  perfunctory  question. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  war  is  surely  coming  !  We  are  upon  the  very 
verge,  though  our  friends  the  Russians  pretend  not  to  be- 
lieve. Kurino  is  to  abandon  St.  Petersburg.  I  still  have  a 
gleam  of  hope  that  the  Japanese  will  have  common  intelli- 
gence, and  withdraw." 

"If  Kurino  leaves,  then  the  Russian  minister  here  must 
withdraw.  I  was  told  yesterday  that  he  too  made  prepara- 
tions." 

"Each  move  may  be  a  feint.  Diplomacy  is  largely  made 
up  of  feints."  Here  he  gave  a  fleshy  shrug.  "  But,  my  young 


158  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

friend,  our  speculations  will  not  change  events.  As  tjie  Japan- 
ese say,  '  Shi-ka-ta  ga  nai,'  which,  being  interpreted,  means, 
*  Way  out,  there  is  none.'  Tell  me  of  yourself.  You  are  paie. 
Do  the  joys  of  Tokio  prove  too  arduous  ?  " 

The  speaker,  lolling  back  in  his  leathern  chair,  lighted 
another  cigarette,  his  eighth  since  breakfast,  and  turned  an 
inquiring  leer  upon  his  companion.  Pierre  was  staring  into 
the  smoky  coal  fire.  He  had  scarcely  heard  Ronsard's  last 
words.  Yet  all  at  once  he  felt  that  here  was  an  opportunity 
to  ask  the  advice  he  had  been  craving. 

"  Last  night  I  was  at  a  Japanese  banquet,  an  affair  splendid, 
but  small,  given  to  the  family  of  the  newly  presented  Amer- 
ican minister,  Mr.  Todd,  by  Prince  Hagane,"  he  began. 

Ronsard  showed  unmistakable  interest.  "  Ah,  the  prince  ! 
The  old  toad  who  sits  at  the  heart  of  empire  in  Japan.  And 
at  his  private  villa !  You  are  fortunate,  Monsieur." 

Pierre  nodded. 

"And  you  said  a  family  affair.  I  hear  there  is  a  Miss 
Todd.  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  and  the  charming 
Mademoiselle  —  " 

Pierre  gave  a  gesture.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  not  she,  —  though 
the  charm  is  unquestioned.  Mr.  Dodge  and  I  were  included 
because  of  being  ship-comrades  with  the  Todd  party.  There 
were  also  present  Miss  Onda  and  her  father.  Miss  Onda  was 
on  the  ship  with  us.  She  was  educated  in  Washington.  I 
knew  her  there." 

"  Ah,"  murmured  the  other,  more  thoughtfully.  "  Rumors 
of  Miss  Onda's  great  beauty  are  already  abroad.  They  will 
contemplate  an  official  marriage  for  her  with  some  fortunate 
heathen,  honored  in  his  own  land.  Cela !  " 

"She  will  marry  no  Japanese,"  said  Pierre,  quickly.  He 
felt  Ronsard's  upward  look,  but  did  not  meet  it.  His  heart 
moved  a  little  faster.  This  was  his  first  bold  step  upon  a 
bridge  too  narrow  for  turning. 

"  Ah,"  murmured  Ronsard  again. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Pierre,  "she  will  marry  no  Japanese.  I  — 
I  —  am  in  a  position  to  know." 

"  She  is  already  betrothed,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Yes." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       159 

"  And  not  to  a  Japanese  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  To  an  American,  I  presume.  You  say  she  has  been  edu- 
cated in  that  country.  Educated!  And  in  America!  The 
thought  is  droll." 

"  Not  to  an  American  either,  your  Excellency.  To  one  of 
your  own  race,  —  to  a  Frenchman." 

"Ah,"  said  Ronsard.  It  was  wonderful  what  expression 
he  could  cram  into  that  small,  elastic  sound.  Evidently  the 
intonation  on  this  occasion  was  far  from  pleasing  to  the 
listener.  Pierre's  blue  eyes  flashed  and  darkened.  Fixing 
them  for  the  first  time  steadily  on  his  companion  he  said, 
"  She  is  betrothed,  your  Excellency,  to  me.  Do  I  receive  your 
felicitations  ?  " 

His  look  was  a  challenge.  Konsard  passed  a  fat  hand  over 
his  mouth  before  asking,  "  With  her  family's  consent  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  Our  betrothal  was  in  Washington,  shortly  before 
sailing,  and  entered  into  with  the  full  knowledge  and  consent 
of  her  intimate  friends,  the  Todds.  As  to  the  Japanese 
father's  consent,  we  had  planned  and  hoped  to  gain  it  imme- 
diately upon  reaching  Japan." 

Ronsard's  thin  eyebrows  arched  to  the  very  roots  of  his 
thin,  gray  hair.  "  You  have  arrived,  —  two  weeks,  is  it  not  ? 
You  have  not  gained  ?  " 

"  Things  went  wrong  with  me  from  the  instant  of  landing," 
said  Pierre,  dejectedly.  "I  offended  in  some  unknown  way 
that  grim  image  she  calls  her  parent.  I  do  not  know  yet  in 
what  I  did  wrong ;  but  he  keeps  us  apart,  and  prevents  her 
even  from  writing  an  explanation.  The  Todds  have  seen  her 
but  once,  and  learned  only  the  bald  fact  of  her  father's  oppo- 
sition. At  the  banquet  last  night  we  both  seemed  under 
espionage,  —  subjects  for  dissection,  in  fact.  I  am  bewildered 
with  the  misery  of  it,  your  Excellency,  for  I  love  the  girl. 
My  one  hope  is  that  I  have  her  promise,  and  on  her  loyalty 
alone  I  must  now  rely." 

Count  Ronsard  drew  a  long,  long  whiff  from  his  cigarette, 
and  then  ostentatiously  nipped  the  ash  in  air.  It  dissolved 
before  reaching  the  floor,  a  vague  little  puff  of  gray  nothing- 
ness. "  That  is  what  the  Japanese  think  of  such  a  promise  ! 


160  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

The  true  Jehovah  in  Japan  is  the  composite  will  of  the  family. 
Is  it  not  partly  so  in  France,  Monsieur  ?  If  you  really  desired 
marriage  with  this  bit  of  ivory,  and — pardon  ine  —  so  harsh 
a  yoke  seems  utterly  unnecessary,  you  should  have  persuaded 
your  inamorata  to  become  a  Christian,  and,  while  still  in 
America,  have  consummated  a  Christian  marriage.  Even  a 
Japanese,  in  these  enlightened  days,  would  not  dare  to  attack- 
such  a  bond." 

"  She  is  a  Christian  already,"  said  Pierre.  "  And  for  an 
American  marriage  I  pleaded  with  a  scourged  soul.  Even 
Madame  Todd  advised  it ;  but  Yuki-ko  would  not  listen.  She 
must  wait,  she  said,  for  her  family's  consent." 

"Very  proper  of  Mademoiselle,"  said  Ronsard,  gravely.  As 
Pierre  made  no  immediate  reply,  the  count  went  on  with  his 
theme,  "  The  Japanese  family,  my  son,  is  like  a  large  web,  or 
a  small  solar  system.  In  the  midst,  as  a  central  sun,  or 
reptile,  squats  the  father.  Behind  him  is  the  mystery  and 
power  of  his  father,  living  or  dead,  and  his  father's  father, 
back  to  the  visionary  era  of  Jimmu  Tenno.  All  about  him,  as 
planets,  or  flies,  are  dotted  the  children,  the  wife,  grand- 
parents, uncles,  aunts,  cousins  to  the  tenth  branch,  the  family 
servants  and  their  connections,  the  family  cat,  the  family 
dog,  the  family  ghost,  the  priests,  soothsayers,  physicians,  — 
Mou  Dieu,  down  to  the  very  crickets  who  chirp  beneath  the 
family  doorstone.  In  a  question  of  marriage,  all  these  must 
be  consulted.  The  bride  is  no  more  than  a  gnat  caught 
somewhere  in  the  web,  or  a  very  small  satellite  belonging  to 
a  distant  world." 

"  It  is  of  interest,  your  Excellency,"  protested  Pierre ;  "  but 
I  have  no  mind  to  give  it.  Consider  my  plight.  I  am  young, 
madly  in  love,  and  touched  with  despair.  I  turn  to  you  as  a 
father." 

"  A  father  ?  "  echoed  the  count,  with  a  small  gleam  of  amuse- 
ment in  his  eyes,  "  Mother  of  God !  It  is  a  name  to  conjure 
with.  What  will  you  ?  " 

"  You  have  lived  here  long ;  you  know  the  country  well. 
Aid  me  to  win  the  only  woman  I  can  ever  love." 

"In  lawful  marriage?  Shall  I  assist  you  to  inclose  your- 
self in  that  barbed-wire  fence  of  love  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       161 

"There  can  be  no  other  thought  for^Miss  Ouda  and  me," 
said  Pierre,  stiffly. 

Count  Ronsard  shrugged.  "You  are  quixotic.  I  was  so  at 
your  age.  Such  sentiments  are,  I  assure  you,  wasted  in  this 
place.  The  Japanese  themselves  prefer  the  laxer  course. 
They  very  properly  execrate  these  mixed  marriages,  espe- 
cially legal  mixed  marriages." 

The  man's  voice  was  so  soft,  so  kindly,  so  self-controlled, 
that  Pierre,  in  a  sort  of  wonder,  turned  again  to  study  his 
face.  The  minister  met  his  look  with  the  friendliest  of  smiles 
and  a  little  nod.  Then,  as  if  to  give  the  student  of  physiog- 
nomy every  chance,  he  modestly  lowered  his  eyes. 

It  was  a  face  that  must  have  been  old  even  in  childhood,  — 
old,  and  shrewd,  and  self-indulgent.  The  unhealthy  fat,  which 
gave  his  body  an  unstable  rotundity,  showed  here  chiefly  in 
the  cheeks,  sagging  them  down  into  loosely  filled  bags,  and. 
drawing  long  wrinkles  in  the  pull.  The  forehead,  very  narrow 
toward  the  top,  with  hair  growing  downward  in  a  deep  point, 
was  as  gray  as  the  scant,  bristling  hair.  The  whole  face, 
indeed,  was  gray ;  its  hueless  monotony  given  emphasis  by  the 
single  note  of  the  underlip  which  protruded,  moist,  velvety, 
and  round,  like  a  scarlet  fungus  from  the  bark  of  a  rotting 
tree. 

"  To  be  candid,  my  boy,"  murmured  the  minister,  still  with 
eyelids  drooped,  "your  penchant  for  Miss  Onda  was  already 
known  to  me.  A  ship  is  a  huge  floating  laboratory  of  social 
gossip.  Touch  land,  voila,  and  the  germs  fly.  My  attache', 
Monsieur  Mouquin,  chanced  to  witness  your  meeting  with 
Papa  Onda.  He  saw  your  rejection,  and  the  manner  in  which 
your  betrothed  was  heartlessly  abducted.  We  —  that  is, 
Mouquin  and  myself  —  have  even  ventured  to  speculate  upon 
possibilities,  diplomatic  possibilities  in  the  interest  of  France, 
that  may  be  lying  dormant  in  your  continued  —  er  —  friend- 
ship with  the  charming  Miss  Onda.  At  the  axis  of  each  new 
twig  of  history,  Monsieur,  sits  the  love  of  a  woman." 

"I  —  I  trust  that  I  do  not  clearly  understand  your  Excel- 
lency," said  Pierre,  fighting  down,  as  he  spoke,  a  whole  swarm 
of  unsavory  intuitions. 

The  count  gave  a  small,  resigned  sigh,  turned  slightly  in  his 

11 


162  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

chair,  and  tapped  with  one  white  hand  his  heap  of  opened 
letters.  "  Several  of  these  documents  suggest  the  appointment 
of  a  certain  young  Monsieur  Le  Beau  to  office  in  the  French 
Legation  at  Tokio.  The  old  Due  de  St.  Cyr  is  writer  of 
one." 

"  Monsieur  le  Due  is  my  great-uncle,  and  ray  friend,"  said 
Pierre. 

"You  will  realize  that  it  becomes  my  duty  to  acquaint 
myself  with  the  calibre  of  such  an  applicant,  of  a  youth  so 
highly  recommended,  and  especially  at  a  time  when  rela- 
tions between  our  country  and  Japan  are  slightly  —  er  — 
neuralgic." 

"  I  have  no  previous  record  in  civil  service,  but  I  believe  I 
could  do  something  for  France." 

"  Ah,  that  is  just  the  point ! "  said  the  count,  with  more 
eagerness  than  he  had  yet  showed.  "  To  serve  France,  —  that 
is  our  whole  concern.  You  have  had  no  training,  it  is  true ; 
yet  you  have  already  a  weapon  that  old  and  tried  diplo- 
mats might  weep  for.  I  refer,  as  you  conjecture,  to  your 
friendship  with  Mademoiselle  Onda,  daughter  of  Tetsujo  Onda, 
and  ward,  in  a  sense,  of  his  Highness  Prince  Hagane." 

Pierre,  in  a  flash,  was  upon  his  feet.  Cigarette  ashes 
tumbled  from  the  folds  of  his  waistcoat.  He  hurled  a  newly 
lighted  tube  into  the  fire.  "You,  sir,"  he  began,  with  evident 
effort  to  control  his  voice,  "you,  sir,  are  experienced,  and  I 
am  ignorant;  you  are  calm  and  I  am  impetuous, — perhaps 
I  should  hsten  courteously  to  what  you  wish  to  say ;  but  I 
believe  it  impossible  for  me  to  do  so.  I  love  this  girl  as  a 
man  loves  the  woman  whom  he  desires  to  make  his  honored 
wife.  In  England,  where  I  went  to  school,  I  learned  ideas, 
stricter  perhaps  than  Parisian  conceptions,  of  the  sacredness 
and  the  responsibility  of  marriage.  This  girl  is  a  thing  of 
snow.  No  tie  could  be  too  strong,  no  sacrament  too  safe,  for 
pledging  my  fidelity.  You  see,  I  could  not  listen." 

The  count,  as  the  young  man  was  speaking,  gazed  steadily 
into  the  fire.  His  face  remained  as  expressionless  as  a  leaf. 
Pierre,  striding  here  and  there  in  his  agitation,  came  back  at 
length  to  the  mantel,  and  stood  still.  The  count  spoke 
slowly. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       163 

"  It  is  far  better  for  France  arid  for  you  that  I  speak  my 
mind  fully;  yet,  because  you  are  ignorant  and  impetuous,  you 
cannot,  as  you  say,  listen  in  decent  reserve.  It  is  ever  so 
with  youth." 

The  deep  sadness  of  the  elder  man  swept  aside  Pierre's 
rising  indignation.  He  looked  very  old  now,  huddled  in  the 
great  chair,  his  hands  spread,  palm  outward,  to  the  blaze. 

Pierre  threw  himself  on  an  ottoman  near.  "Pardon  my 
boorishness.  I  will  listen,  Monsieur,  though  your  words  be 
fangs.  You  are  my  mother's  valued  friend,  and  for  that  alone 
I  should  owe  you  reverence.  Speak  what  you  will." 

At  the  re-mention  of  the  word  "  mother,"  the  same  curious 
look  flickered  in  Ronsard's  eyes.  He  drew  a  sigh,  gathered 
himself  into  a  more  upright  posture,  and  asked  of  Pierre,  in 
judicial  tones,  "  Let  me  inquire,  Monsieur,  whether  you  and 
Mademoiselle  Onda,  or  your  friends  the  Todds,  have  thought 
out  any  logical  conclusion,  should  the  family  of  Onda  determine 
that  you  are  to  be  definitely  repulsed  ?  " 

Pierre  dropped  his  head  to  his  hands.  "ISTo,  we  can  think 
of  nothing,  —  except  elopement,  and  that,  now,  is  impossible." 

"  Have  you  thought  for  her  of  a  possible  forced  marriage?  " 

"To  a  Japanese?  Yes,  my  God,  when  have  I  not  thought 
it!  No,  Monsieur,  I  do  not  think  it  —  I  will  not;  she 
would  accept  death  sooner  than  break  her  troth  to  me.  I  have 
her  word,  her  broken  hairpin  —  " 

"A  menacing  implement  —  "  interpolated  Ronsard. 

" Can  you  think  it  possible,  your  Excellency?" 

"  What,  the  forced  marriage  ? "  Rousard  broke  off,  looked 
at  Pierre,  and  then,  as  if  in  compassion,  removed  his  gaze. 

"Make  it  not  unendurable,"  muttered  Pierre,  through 
whitening  lips. 

"  I  make  nothing,"  said  Ronsard.  "  You  have  begun  the 
train  of  disaster;  I  can  but  trace  the  map  of  possible  retreat. 
Yes,  I  believe  truly  that  the  next  move  in  her  family  will  be 
to  marry  her  off  to  some  eligible  suitor,  —  an  old  man,  prob- 
ably, one  strong  enough  to  keep  you  and  the  girl  in  check. 
Some  worn-out  voluptuary,  or  a  War-God  in  Pig  Iron,  like  old 
Hagane  himself." 

Pierre  raised   bloodshot   eyes.     His    mouth  writhed  and 


164  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

opened,  but  no  words  came.  The  old  diplomat's  voice  had 
been  like  cut  velvet,  woven  on  wires  of  steel. 

"  You  —  you  —  do  not  —  spare  —  '  Pierre  managed  to 
gasp  at  length. 

Ronsard  wore,  if  anything,  a  look  of  satisfaction.  He  now 
lifted  a  jewelled  hand  to  press  and  pinch  and  fondle  the  moist, 
warm  cushion  of  the  protruding  Jip.  His  eyes,  from  under 
their  drooping  lids,  darted  sharp  fusilades  of  meaning  upon 
his  shrinking  companion.  The  very  sting  restored  Pierre. 
"  Yes,"  resumed  the  other,  as  if  Pierre  had  spoken,  "  in  such 
manages  de  convenance  personal  affection  is  left  aside.  Yet 
how  deplorable — how  impossible  —  that  a  Botticelli  in  ivory 
and  pearl  should  never  know  the  joys  of  ardent  love  !  Oppor- 
tunities always  arise.  And  then,  as  wife  of  a  Japanese  official, 
Mademoiselle  Onda  might  prove  invaluable  to  France  — 
invaluable ! " 

Pierre  rose  this  time  slowly.  Both  delicate  hands  gripped 
the  rim  of  the  table  hard.  For  a  moment  he  shut  his  eyes 
that  the  vision  of  the  sneering,  sensual  face  might  not  tempt 
the  blow  his  young  arm  tingled  to  inflict.  "  It  is  enough,"  he 
said,  "  I  was  wrong  in  thinking  that  I  could  listen.  If  your 
Excellency  will  now  be  so  good  as  to  excuse  me  — 

Ronsard  gave  a  gesture  of  good  fellowship.  He  smiled 
cunningly  to  himself  as  Pierre  vanished  from  the  room.  Self- 
congratulations  fawned  upon  him.  His  aim  had  been  true. 
The  poisoned  arrow  was  in  place,  and  though  Pierre  might 
snap,  or  draw  it  forth,  the  wound  would  fester. 

Among  his  morning  letters  one  had  been  carefully  concealed. 
It  was  of  the  latest  tint  and  shape  of  fashion.  It  smelled  of 
Paris  and  intrigue.  The  last  words  were  these,  "Say  nothing 
to  my  headstrong  boy  of  this  letter,  but,  for  my  sake,  keep 
him  from  serious  entanglement.  I  object  not,  you  will  un- 
derstand, to  passing  follies;  but  let  not  the  handcuffs  of  a 
Japanese  marriage  click.  Mon  Dieu,  think  of  grandchildren ! 
Yours,  for  the  old  time's  sake,  Olga  Le  Beau."  The  count  read 
it  through  once  more,  rubbed  it  thoughtfully  against  his  red 
lip,  and  finally,  with  a  sentimental  sigh,  placed  it  on  the  coals. 

Dropping  his  head  forward,  he  began  to  dream.  At  first  it 
was  of  Paris,  only  Paris,  with  its  gay  streets,  beautiful  women, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       165 

its  theatres  and  supper-rooms.  What  waste  of  years  to  have 
lived  so  long  away !  Yet  in  the  East  had  been  compensa- 
tions. Diplomacy,  as  he  conceived  it,  was  the  highest  form 
of  gambling;  life  itself,  a  spinning  roulette  table.  Diplomacy 
was  the  only  profession  for  one  with  romance,  poetry,  passion 
in  his  veins,  and  brains  in  his  skull.  Pierre,  Olga  Breken- 
dorff's  child,  was  fitted  for  the  career,  if,  at  the  outset,  he  did 
not  manacle  his  own  hands.  He  must  not  marry,  least  of  all 
marry  a  Japanese  girl  of  high  connections.  Let  the  girl  love 
him,  and  be  given  to  another.  Visions  of  purloined  state 
papers,  of  secrets  won  in  the  marriage  chamber  only  to  be 
given  France  next  morning,  of  Japanese  chagrin  at  the 
mysterious  betrayal  of  plans,  caressed  him  with  leprous 
fingers.  Ah,  to  be  young  once  more  and  beautiful,  like  Pierre ! 
How  like  his  eyes  were  to  the  Eussian  mother!  No  wonder 
the  Japanese  girl  loved  him  ! 

A  sharp  knock  roused  him. 

"Entrez!     Oide!" 

Mouquin  rushed  in  as  if  pursued,  leaving  the  door  open. 
Within  a  few  feet  of  Ronsard  he  stood  still,  shivering  in  an 
ague  of  excitement. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  Speak,  man.  You  chatter  and  grimace 
like  an  ape." 

Mouquin  waved  a  small  square  of  paper  printed  in  Japanese. 
"  An  extra  !  War !  They  say  Togo  has  fired !  " 

Rousard  leaned  forward  and  snatched  the^.paper.  He  read 
Japanese  well. 

"War!  Togo  fired  this  morning!  Three  Russian  boats 
already  sunk  !  Mother  of  God !  " 

The  telephone  began  a  frantic  ringing.  Mouquin  went  to 
it  sidewise.  "Your  Excellency,  the  Russian  minister." 

"  Hold  the  wire."  Ronsard  got  to  his  feet.  Mouquin  still 
chattered.  His  words  came  now  in  a  torrent.  He  was 
drunk  with  the  bigness  of  the  hour.  "Fired,  your  Excellency  ! 
Japan  the  pygmy,  with  no  further  provocation,  has  dared 
fire  upon  Imperial  Russia ! " 

Ronsard  eyed  the  speaker  with  a  sort  of  scorn.  "True, 
Monsieur,  and,  as  I  understand,  Japan  the  pygmy  has  begun 
already  to  sink  Imperial  Russia." 


166  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Mouquin  stared  for  a  moment  at  the  speaker,  seeking  a  clue 
to  the  unexpected  words.  Perhaps  he  saw  for  himself  a 
chance  at  singularity.  He  bowed  over,  gave  a  low  laugh,  and 
backing  toward  the  door  cried  out,  "  And  has  begun  to  —  sink 
Imperial  Russia!  Banzai  Nippon  ! "  He  went  out  quickly. 

Ronsard  stood  quiet  by  the  telephone.  It  hissed  and  bub- 
bled like  an  impaled  crab.  He  lifted  the  receiver  slowly,  his 
eyes  still  on  the  door.  "  I  know  it  now,"  he  murmured,  "  I 
have  long  suspected  it.  Somewhere  in  this  desert  of  gray 
huts  Mouquin  has  a  Japanese  wife.  It  was  her  lips  that 
uttered  through  him  that  '  Banzai  Nippon.'  And  so  I  think 
it  would  soon  be  with  the  impressionable  Pierre.  Hello ! 
Oui,  it  is  Ronsard." 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

INTO  the  wide,  white  streets  of  modem  Yedo,  Pierre 
stumbled  alone.  There  had  been  no  definite  thought  in  his 
hurried  flight,  only  a  craving  to  flee  from  the  polluting  face 
and  soft,  compelling  voice  of  his  compatriot.  How  was  it 
possible  for  a  man  with  the  intelligence  of  Ronsard  to  harbor 
such  ideas  of  Japanese  character  ?  Yuki's  very  presence 
breathed  purity ;  yet  that  old  man  had  said  —  had  dared  to 
hint —  Pierre  broke  away  from  the  recollection,  hid  his 
eyes,  and  groaned.  As  a  consequence  he  was  nearly  hurled  to 
earth  by  a  passing  kuruma-man,  whose  warning  cry  of  "  Hek  ! 
Hek  !  "  had  been  ignored. 

Pierre  recovered  himself  with  difficulty.  The  occupant  of 
the  vehicle,  a  stout  burgher  of  the  middle  class  with  sulphur- 
colored  socks  and  a  gaudy  watch-chain,  essayed  some  laughing 
excuse ;  but  the  wiry  human  steed,  deliberately  putting  his 
shafts  to  the  ground,  squared  himself  before  the  offending 
"  Seiyo-jin  "  to  deliver  a  volley  of  heterogeneous  oaths,  selected 
at  random  from  the  stores  of  other  nations.  Pierre,  unmoved 
by  these  comic  insults,  apologized  to  the  burgher  in  three 
languages,  and  hurried  on. 

Now  for  the  first  time  he  noticed  that  flags  were  being  hung 
at  every  door.  Flags  fluttered  from  the  backs  of  jinrikishas 
and  were  stuck  on  top  of  pull-cart  loads.  Past  him  hurried 
newsboys  with  printed  hand-bills  held  eagerly  upward.  Small 
bells  jangled  at  their  hips. 

"Nan  desu  ka?"  (What  is  it?)  he  asked  politely  of  a 
passer-by. 

"Ikusa,"  was  the  brief  response,  accompanied,  as  Pierre 
could  not  help  seeing,  by  a  disdainful,  yet  triumphant  scowl. 
"  Ikusa "  was  a  word  not  included  in  the  Frenchman's  short 
vocabulary. 


168  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Four  University  students,  with  the  exaggeratedly  short 
skirts,  and  the  brawny,  bare  legs  of  the  Satsuma  faction,  came 
lurching  toward  him.  All  grinned  at  sight  of  the  alien,  and 
shouted  with  one  voice,  "Banzai  Nippon!" 

Pierre  understood  this  phrase  at  least.  "An  excellent 
sentiment,"  he  remarked  gravely  in  English ;  "  but  now  will 
you  kindly  inform  me  why  it  seems  appropriate  to  the  present 
moment  ?  " 

The  boys  nudged  one  another  and  giggled.  One  of  them  at 
length  answered  in  careful  English,  "  Mr.  Togo  has  war  already 
begun.  Many  Russian  battle-ships,  having  been  this  day  fired 
upon,  have  into  sea-bottom  sinked.  All  will  be  siuked  !  Banzai 
Nippon ! " 

"  Banzai  Nippon  ! "  roared  his  comrades  ;  and  the  four,  with 
sundry  delighted,  backward  glances  at  the  bewildered  for- 
eigner, hurried  on. 

Pierre,  ignoring  consequences,  again  stood  still.  Jinrikishas 
clattered  past  him  to  the  right,  to  the  left,  singly,  or  now  in 
long,  black  strings.  The  faces  of  human  horses  and  vehicle 
occupants  were  alike  vivified  by  a  singular  excitement.  Many 
of  the  little  trotting  men  conversed  volubly  with  those  whom 
they  bore.  "  Ikusa!  Ikusa !  "  was  the  burden  of  all  speech. 

"  Ikusa,"  repeated  Pierre,  dully.  "  This  '  Ikusa '  undoubtedly 
means  '  war.' "  He  knew  in  his  soul  that  the  rumor  was  true. 
Visions  of  the  scowling  Onda,  of  Prince  Hagane,  of  the  leering, 
intelligent  eyes  of  Count  Ronsard,  flew  past  him  with  the  real 
faces  of  the  streets.  He  cursed  aloud.  "  War !"  a  new  wedge 
between  himself  and  Yuki. 

He  walked  on  now  with  nervous  energy.  "  Yu-ki  —  Yu-ki  — 
Yu-ki,"  —  his  heart  and  steps  kept  pace  with  the  refrain. 
The  whole  world  fell  into  the  despairing  swing  of  it.  "  Yu- 
ki  —  Yu-ki  —  Yu-ki !" 

A  little  Japanese  matron,  hastening  to  a  sick  neighbor's 
house  with  the  great  news,  gave  him  a  commiserating  glance. 
Her  husband  was  a  sailor  on  one  of  the  battle-ships  now 
fighting.  She  was  proud  and  happy.  What  sorrow  could  it 
be  that  made  the  young  foreigner's  eyes  so  deep  and  blue  ? 
Surely  this  was  not  war !  It  must  be  love.  She  had  heard 
that  in  the  affairs  of  love  the  foreigners  found  strange  griefs. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       169 

"  Do-mo ! "  murmured  the  little  dame  to  herself,  "  I  am 
grateful  to  the  gods  this  day  to  be  a  Japanese  with  my  hus- 
band in  a  glorious  fight." 

Pierre  walked  now,  still  unheeding,  in  a  direction  almost 
due  west  from  the  French  Legation.  On  his  right  hand 
stretched  the  long  moats  edged  stiffly  with  young  willows. 
He  had  been  told  that  these  trees  were  planted  by  an  adoring 
people  on  the  day,  just  fifteen  years  before,  that  the  Em- 
peror, out  of  his  wise  and  loving  heart,  had  given  to  them  a 
parliamentary  government.  Only  fifteen  years  !  The  willows 
had  none  of  them  attained  full  growth,  and  yet  the  nation 
that  had  planted  them  had  that  morning  fired  upon  one  of  the 
proudest  and  most  implacable  empires  of  old  Europe. 

On  the  enormous  campus  directly  in  front  of  the  Imperial 
gates,  citizens  by  thousands  were  assembling.  They  surged 
here  and  there  in  a  breathless,  whispered  excitement.  Their 
lowered  voices  and  moving  garments  made  a  sound  as  of  the 
sea. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upward  to  the  Imperial  moat  walls, 
where  white  dots  of  faces  belonging  to  the  court  ladies 
peered  over  for  an  instant  and  vanished. 

The  Emperor  was  not  visible.  The  crowd  did  not  expect 
to  see  him,  and  had  he  suddenly  manifested  himself  would 
have  felt  chagrin  rather  than  exultation.  They  knew  that  his 
heart  was  with  them,  and  they  reverenced  him  thus  silently 
with  the  feeling  one  has  in  a  vast  cathedral,  just  before  the 
service  begins. 

The  Frenchman  hurried  by  with  down-bent  head,  knowing 
himself  an  intruder.  At  the  Sakurada  gate  of  the  moat  system 
he  again  took  his  bearings,  and  saw  that  by  continuing  in 
a  straight  course  he  would  reach  the  American  Legation.  He 
realized  on  the  instant  that  this  was  the  place  where  he 
wished  to  go.  In  all  this  beautiful,  mysterious  land  he  had 
but  two  friends,  Mrs.  Todd  and  Gwendolen. 

On  a  steep  slope  facing  to  the  northeast,  and  leading  up  by 
several  roads  to  the  broad  and  thickly  populated  district  of 
Azabu,  Tokio,  can  be  seen  a  Japanese  gate  which  is  large 
without  being  imposing,  and  severe  without  being  dignified. 
Perhaps  the  peculiar  contours  of  the  land  in  this  unfavored 


170  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

spot,  the  infelicitous  swerve  of  the  road,  and  an  awkward 
grading  of  the  hill,  make  the  tall  gateway  always  appear 
just  a  little  uneasy.  This  is  the  main  entrance  of  the  Amer- 
ican Legation.  Behind  it  stands  a  large  structure  of  wood 
with  office-buildings  attached.  The  contrast  of  buildings 
and  gate  is  not  cheerful.  Nor  is  the  large  surrounding 
garden  of  less  amorphous  aspect.  A  wide  stretch  of  well- 
kept  lawn  with  no  particular  outline,  disheartening  attempts 
along  the  edges  at  bits  of  Japanese  hill  and  rock  formation, 
together  with  certain  unrelated  patches  of  shrub  and  tree, 
coexist  in  a  sort  of  Eurasian  tolerance. 

Pretty  Gwendolen  openly  called  her  present  domicile  a 
barn.  Mrs.  Todd  had  begun  at  once  buying  blindly  and  indis- 
criminately from  peddlers,  hawkers,  and  "  curio-men,"  who  in- 
fest the  official  homes  of  new-comers.  As  a  result,  the  high 
walls  of  the  Legation  rooms  were  being  rapidly  covered  with 
atrocious  kakemono,  some  too  high,  some  too  low,  and  all, 
from  the  standpoint  of  art,  utterly  vicious.  On  tables,  shelves, 
and  mantelpieces  stood  gaudy  Japanese  vases  such  as  a  na- 
tive rag-picker  could  hardly  have  been  persuaded  to  use 
(though  the  price  given  by  Mrs.  Todd  for  a  single  article 
might  have  educated  his  son),  and  various  household  uten- 
sils, each,  to  the  eye  of  a  Japanese  visitor,  uttering  a  shriek  of 
incongruity. 

Should  a  Japanese  lady  fill  one  of  her  low-ceiled,  spacious 
rooms  with  foreign  lithographs  representing  lambs,  blue-eyed 
children,  baskets  of  fruit,  nude  women,  jockeys,  and  land- 
scapes, each  in  a  flaring  gold  frame,  hanging  them  anywhere 
from  two  feet  above  the  matting  to  the  ceiling  line  itself, 
—  should  she,  between  these  rectangular  blasphemies,  sus- 
pend bits  of  foreign  underwear,  old  neckties,  garters,  belts, 
hair-brushes,  and  egg-beaters,  and,  to  complete  the  artistic 
impression,  set  about  on  the  floor  decorated  soup-tureens, 
water-coolers  with  growing  plants,  and  lard-baskets  piled 
high  with  Japanese  cakes, — an  American  visitor,  entering 
for  the  first  time,  would  get  much  the  same  impression  that 
Japanese  visitors  derived  from  Mrs.  Todd's  drawing-rooms. 

On  this  clear  morning  of  February  9,  1904,  the  American 
Legation,  in  company  with  all  others  of  the  great  Eastern 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       171 

capital,  hummed  and  vibrated  to  the  excitement  of  war.  Tele- 
phone wires  were  kept  hot.  Messengers  went  back  and  forth 
ceaselessly  with  "  chits  "  (notes)  written  in  English,  French, 
Spanish,  German,  and  other  tongues.  Carriage-wheels  rolled 
and  rattled  in  every  street.  Pierre  was  ushered  into  the  main 
drawing-room,  a  place  which  always  made  him  shudder  and 
think  of  William  Morris.  Mrs.  Todd,  Gwendolen,  and  Mr. 
Dodge  were  already  there.  The  two  latter  were  standing; 
Dodge  evidently  was  on  the  point  of  departure.  Mrs.  Todd 
sat  close  to  the  soft-coal  fire,  sewing  some  green  American 
fringe  on  a  kesa  —  a  Buddhist  priest's  robe —  which  she  was  to 
use  for  a  piano  cover. 

Gwendolen,  first  catching  sight  of  the  visitor,  went  forward 
in  her  bright,  impetuous  way.  "Thank  goodness  that  you 
came !  Is  n't  this  war-news  exciting?  Was  n't  that  banquet 
last  night,  after  the  Eed  God  appeared,  a  regular  skeleton's 
feast  ?  Have  you  heard  from  Yuki  this  morning  ?  " 

Before  Pierre  could  segregate  the  necessary  replies,  Minis- 
ter Todd  was  in  the  room.  He  walked  slowly,  studying,  with 
his  thin  quaint  smile,  a  large  visiting  card,  apparently  just 
received.  He  nodded  all  around,  and  then  addressed  himself 
directly  to  Dodge. 

"  Prince  Hagane  has  called.  Would  you  advise  me  to  see 
him  alone  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Cy.  I  won't  hear  to  it ! "  protested  Mrs.  Todd. 
"With  this  war  started,  he  may  be  intending  you  bodily 
harm ! " 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear,"  said  her  spouse,  patting  one  plump 
shoulder. 

Dodge  had  been  scrutinizing  the  legend  on  the  pasteboard. 

"This  is  his  Highness's  most  rigidly  official  card.  Yes,  sir, 
you  will  have  to  see  him  alone.  But  don't  commit  yourself 
by  the  faintest  hint.  We  have  as  yet  received  no  instructions 
from  Washington." 

"  Why,  what  was  that  great  bunch  of  cables  that  came  this 
morning  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  with  childlike  eyes. 

Todd  grinned  toward  his  secretary,  who  now  cast  a  grinless 
and  apprehensive  look  in  the  direction  of  Pierre.  Dodge 
answered  for  the  office,  "  Those  related  to  an  entirely  different 


172  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

matter,  Mrs.  Todd,  a  personal  matter.  Your  husband,  Minis- 
ter Todd,  has  had  no  instructions  with  regard  to  this  war 
just  begun." 

Pierre,  reddening  slightly,  beckoned  Gwendolen  across  the 
room.  They  stood  staring  out  across  the  wide  brown  lawn. 
Mr.  Todd  and  his  assistant  left  the  room  together.  Above  the 
Buddhist  garment  she  was  desecrating,  Mrs.  Todd  murmured 
plaintively,  "I  've  known  it  all  along,  —  though  Count  Break- 
itoff  in  Washington  assured  me  it  could  not  come.  I  was 
certain  that  just  as  soon  as  I  got  over  here  the  horrid  thing 
would  break  out.  Just  suppose  the  Russians  capture  Tokio  ! 
They  boast  already  that  they  will  dictate  terms  of  peace  in 
Tokio  before  next  Christmas  day,  and  the  Russian  troops  are 
like  wild  beasts."  Here  she  gave  a  shudder,  and  raised  her 
voice.  "Oh,  Gwendolen,  why  did  we  leave  Washington,  or 
even  our  peaceful  Western  home  ?  I'd.  give  ten  thousand 
dollars  to  be  set  down  right  now  in  a  good  Christian  wheat- 
field.  This  is  awful,  simply  awful!  " 

"  And  I  think  it  glorious,  simply  glorious ! "  sang  Gwendolen 
from  the  window.  "  Already  the  prospect  tingles  in  my 
veins..  It  is  better  than  a  coming-out  party,  better  than  auto- 
mobiling  on  a  road  of  green  glass !  I  feel  that  delicious, 
tragic,  matinee  feeling  I  used  to  have  as  a  child,  just  as  the 
curtain  starts  to  rise." 

"  And  you  are  not  afraid  something  is  going  to  happen? " 
asked  Mrs.  Todd. 

"I'm  only  afraid  that  something  isn't  going  to  happen," 
returned  the  intrepid  one. 

Pierre  sauntered  toward  the  hearth.  "  I  come  of  a  fighting 
race,  yet  now  I  share  Madame's  views  rather  than  those  of 
her  spirited  daughter.  This  war  means  a  new  gulf  between 
Yuki  and  me." 

Gwendolen's  face  sobered.  "I've  thought  of  that.  You 
are  right.  It  means  a  wider  gulf ;  it  ought  to  mean  a  wider 
gulf." 

Pierre  moved  nearer  the  fire  and  spread  his  delicate  hands 
to  the  flame.  "Your  tone,  Mademoiselle,"  he  began  with  a 
most  pathetic  attempt  at  lightness,  "might  imply  that  the 
gulf  is  already  of  sufficient  width  to  admit  despair." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  173 

Gwendolen  threw  back  her  head  and  looked  at  him  from 
under  long  lashes.  "I  did  n't  say  so,"  returned  she. 

"  Speech  is  the  least  satisfactory  form  of  intelligent  com- 
munication," answered  Pierre,  still  trying  to  smile  himself  aud 
her  into  the  delusion  that  he  was  but  partly  in  earnest. 

"  Did  you  see  the  way  that  Yuki's  father  watched  us  all  last 
night  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  irrelevantly. 

"  No,  I  cannot  say  I  bestowed  much  attention.  Whenever 
possible,  I  keep  my  eyes  from  unpleasing  objects." 

"  You  do  well,  Pierre,"  asserted  Mrs.  Todd ;  "  especially 
in  this  case.  I  was  next  him  most  of  the  time,  and  though  I 
did  not  look,  I  have  acquired  neuralgia  in  the  shoulder  which 
was  nearest  him." 

"  He  was  n't  what  one  would  call  exactly — gushing,"  mused 
Gwendolen.  She  seated  herself  now,  and  fell  into  a  sort  of 
reverie,  dropping  her  chin  and  catching  it  in  one  hand,  —  a  ges- 
ture ludicrously  like  Mr.  Todd.  Pierre's  glance  into  her  face 
added,  it  would  seem,  to  his  uneasiness. 

"  I  presume  it  is  only  war  that  has  brought  Prince  Hagane  to 
call  so  promptly,"  said  he,  tentatively,  with  a  note  of  chal- 
lenge in  his  voice. 

Gwendolen  gave  a  small  sniff.  "War!  He  may  call  it 
war,  —  but  it  is  Yuki !  Prince  Hagane  stands  behind  that 
old  pickled  samurai,  Onda ;  I  felt  it  last  night.  I  tried  to 
hint  it  to  you  then,  but  you  were  determined  not  to  see." 
She  rose  to  her  feet  again,  and  began  to  flutter  near,  in  the 
fashion  most  disastrous  to  Mrs.  Todd's  always  sensitive 
nerves. 

"  Do  sit  down,  Gwendolen,  or  you  will  have  my  brains  as 
tangled  as  this  knot  of  silk,"  cried  the  matron.  She  began 
now  to  jerk  at  the  shining  strands,  as  if  they  were  partly  the 
cause  of  her  irritation.  In  an  instant  they  were  reduced  to 
the  condition  of  a  small  demented  rainbow.  Pierre  took  a  low 
stool,  seated  himself  near  the  knee  of  his  hostess,  and  began 
deftly  to  unravel  the  tangle. 

He  had  not  tried  to  answer  Gwendolen's  last  remark;  per- 
haps he  could  not.  Something  in  his  face  smote  the  girl's 
generous  heart.  She  knelt  at  the  other  side  of  Mrs.  Todd's 
ample  knee-space,  crying,  "  Pierre,  I  have  hurt  you  !  I  am  a 


174  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

horrid,  brusque  girl.  I  ought  to  be  a  telephone  '  central.'  I 
didn't  mean  to  hurt." 

"  That 's  just  your  way,  Gwendolen,"  admonished  Mrs. 
Todd.  "  You  will  do  things  first,  and  repent  them  after.  How 
often  have  I  told  you  that  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a 
pound  of  cure  ?  " 

"Nay,  Madame,"  entreated  Pierre,  "speak  not  so  harshly. 
Miss  Gwendolen  is  merely  impulsive.  I  know  her  for  a  good 
friend  of  my  Yuki,  and,  I  hope,  of  myself.  Such  candor  may 
smart  a  little,  but  it  is  beneficial.  The  truth  is,  I  am  sore, 
wounded,  aching,  from  a  talk  just  held  with  his  Excellency 
Count  Eonsard.  I  think  I  came  here  for  balm." 

"  You  told  him  of  your  —  attachment  ?  "  questioned  Mrs. 
Todd,  eagerly.  Gwendolen  rose  slowly,  went  over  to  a  divan 
and  seated  herself. 

"  Yes,"  said  Pierre,  "  I  told  him.  And  for  reasons  quite 
different,  quite  apart  from  any  that  Yuki's  friends  or  relatives 
might  urge,  he  is  antagonistic  to  the  idea  of  my  marriage. 
Of  course  his  opposition  means  nothing  to  me.  I  care  not 
if  the  whole  of  France  sailed  East  to  prevent  me.  My  faith 
is  bound  to  Yuki,  and  I  shall  not  give  her  up.  But  in  the 
matter  of  official  appointment  Count  Ronsard  can  make  difficul- 
ties. Indeed  I  am  convinced  that  he  has  been  holding  my  cre- 
dentials all  along,  and,  for  his  own  whim,  will  not  give  them." 

Gwendolen  had  listened  quietly  to  the  full  speech,  though 
her  eyes  were  shining  with  anger.  "  The  old  sinner ! "  she 
exclaimed  ;  "the  idea  of  his  daring  to  object  to  Yuki!  What 
were  his  reasons,  I  would  like  to  know ! " 

Pierre  flushed.  '"  To  put  it  delicately,  —  that  Yuki  is  not  of 
French  descent." 

Gwendolen  bridled.  "Oh,  I  see!  You  need  n't  say  any  more. 
Probably  he  would  object  to  me  for  the  same  reason,  thinking 
me  an  alloy  of  red  Indian  and  buffalo.  For  sheer,  crass  ignor- 
ance, commend  me  to  the  European  savant !  Well,  I  would 
like  to  go  to  Mr.  Ronsard  and  just  inform  him  that  there  is 
no  king  nor  emperor  of  Europe  who  need  not  be  proud  to  win 
my  Yuki-ko ! " 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  told  him,  with  enough  of  vehemence 
to  suit  even  you,  Mademoiselle." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       175 

"  The  miserable  old  wretch ! "  murmured  Mrs.  Todd,  above 
the  kesa. 

Gwendolen's  gaze,  now  that  the  anger  died,  went  moodily 
to  Pierre.  He  met  the  look  with  a  smile  no  less  winning  for 
its  sadness. 

"  Pierre,  you  are  a  dear  boy,"  she  said,  her  own  eyes  sud- 
denly stung  by  tears;  "I  know  Yuki  loves  you,  and  I  can't 
blame  her.  I  wish  —  oh,  I  wish  you  could  be  happy  together; 
but—" 

"  Can  you  not  omit  that  last  small  word  ?  " 

The  girl  sighed  deeply,  then  leaned  forward,  her  elbows  on 
her  knees.  "Pierre,"  she  was  beginning  in  great  seriousness; 
she  had  in  her  mind  to  ask  whether,  if  once  convinced  of  the 
impossibility  of  marriage  with  Yuki  either  now  or  ever,  he 
would  still  demand  from  her  fidelity,  defiance  of  her  parents, 
and  of  all  the  established  rules  of  her  class,  —  still  hold  her 
to  that  promise  he  had  wrung. 

Since  that  banquet  of  the  Red  God,  only  the  evening  before, 
and  now  fleeing  with  strange  rapidity  into  the  past,  —  since  she 
had  seen  Pierre's  very  charm  and  artistic  sensitiveness  used 
as  clever  traps  for  his  entanglement,  he  meantime  suspecting 
nothing,  Gwendolen  felt  not  only  that  the  marriage  would  be 
indefinitely  postponed,  but  that  it  would  be  finally  prevented. 
The  subtlety,  the  ideality,  the  self-sacrificing  impulses  of  a 
Japanese  nature  indissolubly  bound  to  Pierre  must  mean 
sorrow,  if  not  degeneration  to  both.  As  well  try  to  graft  a 
French  geranium  upon  the  stem  of  a  young  bamboo  !  Before 
she  could  put  her  question,  Mr.  Todd,  re-entering,  diverted  all 
interest  to  himself. 

Mrs.  Todd  was  first  to  speak.  "  Oh,  Cy,  tell  me  quick ! 
Has  war  really  begun,  or  were  those  reports  only  to  frighten 
us  ?  Did  he  confess  that  war  had  come  ?  " 

"  He  did  n't  confess,  exactly.  He  admitted  war,  as  he  might 
have  admitted  that  the  day  was  cold  or  the  wind  blowing.  I 
never  feel  quite  myself  before  that  man  !  He  charges  me  with 
electricity  first,  and  then  hypnotizes  me  afterward.  As  clearly 
as  I  can  make  out,  it  was  a  friendly  visit,  its  particular  object 
being  to  ascertain  correctly  the  amount  of  indisposition  ac- 
quired by  each  separate  guest  from  last  night's  revelry." 


176  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

"Revelry,"  murmured  Gwendolen. 

"  I  hope  you  did  not  tell  him  that  I  had  nightmare,  Cy  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Todd,  anxiously. 

"I  did  not." 

"  I  hope  you  did  tell  him  that  I  think  Japanese  food  deli- 
cious, and  would  like  to  live  on  it,"  cried  Gwendolen. 

"I  did,"  said  her  father.  "He  looked  bored.  Evidently 
charming  young  American  women  are  nothing  to  Prince 
Hagane.  His  chief  concern,  it  seemed,  was  Pierre." 

"I  —  Monsieur?"  echoed  Pierre,  with  a  nervous  start. 

"Yes,  I  can't  recall  now  any  very  direct  questions, — he 
didn't  exactly  'pump,'  yet  in  his  esoteric  way  he  let  me  know 
that  all  I  could  tell  him  of  you  he  would  be  glad  to  learn." 

Pierre  tried  to  meet  Gwendolen's  eyes,  but  she  had  turned 
away. 

"  Did  you  speak  of  my  Russian  mother,  Mr.  Todd  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  had  the  chance,  but  dodged  it.  I  thought  it  none 
of  his  Highness's  business." 

"Merci,"  murmured  the  other. 

"Speaking  of  Dodging  it,"  put  in  Gwendolen;  "where  is 
your  secretary  ?  " 

"  He  got  a  '  chit '  from  the  Spanish  Legation,  and  asked  for 
an  hour's  leave  of  absence." 

"  That  fat  Carmen  Gil  y  Niestra,"  puffed  Mrs.  Todd.  (Mrs. 
Todd's  own  weight  was  over  the  two  hundred  mark,  yet  she  was 
scathing  in  her  scorn  of  avoirdupois  in  another.)  "These 
European  women  are  shameless  in  the  way  they  run  after 
men.  She 's  shadowing  Dodge  now.  I  wonder  what  she  can 
want  of  him."  The  good  lady  applied  herself  with  renewed 
diligence  to  her  robe.  Gwendolen  studied  the  stucco-work  of 
the  ceiling.  In  the  somewhat  strained  silence  Pierre  rose. 
Mr.  Todd  was  close  to  him.  He  put  a  hand  affectionately  on 
the  boy's  shoulder,  and  looked  down  into  his  face.  Pierre,  in 
spite  of  efforts  for  self-control,  shrank  back,  his  lips  quivering 
with  a  prescience  of  new  pain. 

Gwendolen  ran  to  his  defence.  "We  know  what  you  are 
going  to  say.  It  has  been  spoken  already.  Spare  us,  dad. 
We  are  all  upset  this  morning,  and  when  one  is  upset  good 
advice  is  an  insult.  I  challenge  you  to  a  set  at  tennis, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       177 

Pierre.  Come,  come,  the  court  is  perfect,  though  the  skies 
be  gray." 

Pierre  turned  eagerly.  "  Capital,  nothing  could  be  better. 
But  my  costume,  —  I  have  not  the  necessary  flannels,  shoes  —  " 
He  looked  himself  over  in  concern. 

"  You  have  your  legs  and  arms,  I  presume,"  said  Gwendolen, 
dryly. 

Catching  up  the  rackets  and  a  box  of  balls,  she  hurried  out, 
leaving  the  glass  door  open. 

"  Shut  the  door,  Pierre,"  called  Mrs.  Todd. 

Todd  watched  the  slim  young  figure  as  he  went.  Faithful 
to  Mrs.  Todd's  admonition,  he  closed  the  panel  with  the  great- 
est care,  rattling  the  knob  to  show  that  the  latch  had  caught. 

Mr.  Todd  sighed.  "  I  wish  that  door  opened  into  France, 
and  that  I  held  a  St.  Peter's  key  to  it,"  he  murmured,  as  if 
to  himself. 

Mrs.  Todd  wondered  above  the  robe.  "What's  that  pretty 
thing  you  're  making  ?  "  asked  her  spouse,  quickly.  "  A  piano 
cover  ?  Gwendolen  ought  to  play  a  regular  '  Streets  of  Cairo ' 
potpourri  under  that.  Are  n't  you  afraid  the  old  priest's 
ghost  will  haunt  you  ? " 

"You  do  talk  such  nonsense  for  a  grown-up,  intelligent 
man,"  reproved  his  dame,  but  her  lips  and  her  eyes  smiled. 

"Those  are  the  times  when  I  make  my  most  sensible 
remarks,"  said  he,  in  return. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  retorted  his  Susan,  with  doubt  in 
her  voice. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

RETURNING  home  from  the  princely  banquet  side  by  side  in 
the  double  jinrikisha,  not  a  word  had  been  spoken  between 
Tetsujo  Onda  and  his  child.  The  master  went  at  once  into 
his  little  study,  banging  shoji  and  fusuma  close  around  him. 

Yuki,  forcing  back  her  sad  thoughts,  related  to  her  mother 
and  the  eager  servants  an  account  of  the  many  beautiful 
dishes  at  the  feast.  For  their  amusement  she  even  told  a 
few  of  the  queer  foreign  mistakes.  Some  of  these  were 
received  by  Maru  San  in  gasping  horror. 

"Ma-a-a-a!"  she  cried  once.  "A  foreign  lady,  rich  and 
educated,  leave — one  —  chopstick  —  standing  on  its  head  in 
a  bowl  of  rice  !  Ma-a  !  But  how  can  I  believe  that  ?  Miss 
Yuki  must  be  joking." 

"  Just  think  what  foolish  things  you  would  do  at  a  for- 
eign banquet,  with  their  awkward  knives,  forks,  and  spoons," 
said  Yuki,  smiling. 

Maru  shook  her  head.  This  revolution  of  the  poles  of 
etiquette  was  too  much  for  her  brain. 

Each  article  of  Yuki's  attire,  beginning  with  the  heavy 
satin  obi  (sash),  was  carefully  folded,  pressed  smooth  by  the 
hands,  and  put  away  lovingly  in  a  lacquered  clothes-chest. 
Sometimes  Iriya  performed  this  service,  sometimes  Suzume. 
Yuki  and  Maru  were  both  considered  too  inexperienced  for 
such  careful  manipulation. 

That  night  it  was  the  old  warrior's  turn  to  remain  awake, 
staring  at  the  ceiling,  spelling  out  the  future  by  the  andon's 
dim  ligh't,  and  planning  ways  to  rescue  his  daughter  from 
her  mad  attachment  without  inflicting  unnecessary  pain.  For 
Yuki  was  indeed  the  pride  of  his  heart.  It  was  a  humiliation 
as  well  as  a  sorrow  that  she  should  be  willing  to  repudiate  her 
nationality. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       179 

With  his  slow  wits  and  somewhat  rigid  cast  of  mind  he 
had  not  caught  the  full  importance  of  the  evening  just  passed, 
or  the  significance  of  the  test  in.  which  the  Ked  God  had 
played  so  large  a  part.  Yet  in  his  daimyo's  eye,  as  it  rested 
on  Yuki,  he  had  seen  something  that  stirred  the  blood  in  the 
old  samurai's  veins.  Surely  not  even  the  ladies  of  the  golden 
Fujiwara  age  had  been  more  beautiful  than  Yuki-ko.  Then, 
Hagane  was  not  indifferent  to  beauty  in  women.  Could  it  be 
possible —  But  no!  Tetsujo  dared  not  let  this  fancy  spread. 
His  skull  would  split  with  it.  Groaning,  he  turned  on  his 
wooden  pillow  and  tried  to  sleep  —  but  in  vain. 

Meanwhile  his  daughter,  not  twenty  feet  away,  behind 
her  silver  fusuma,  lay  in  dreamless  quiet.  The  certainty  of 
Hagane's  implication,  and  the  tremendous  opposition  it  in- 
volved, steadied  and  concentrated  her.  She  knew  what  she 
had  before  her  and  deliberately  willed  the  sleep  that  should 
bring  strength. 

In  the  early  dawn,  within  the  sound  of  her  father's  restless 
tossing,  she  crouched  against  a  shoji,  and  in  the  faint  pink 
glow  wrote  an  English  letter.  Every  motion  showed  care. 
The  rustling  of  the  long  sheets  of  Japanese  paper  would  have 
betrayed  her,  so  she  wrote  in  pencil  on  a  little  pad  that  bore 
the  name  of  a  stationer  in  Washington.  From  time  to  time 
she  consulted  an  open  letter  in  a  man's  writing,  a  wild,  illogi- 
cal, despairing  letter,  —  the  one  that  Gwendolen  had  brought 
some  days  before. 

"  How  will  your  thoughts  be  this  gray  morning,  my  dear  ?  " 
she  wrote  to  him.  "Last  night  you  were  as  one  stung  by 
happy  madness.  You  would  not  see  nor  hear  my  warnings. 
Now  you  will  be  realizing  why  I  wished  to  make  warnings. 
Lord  Hagane  is  with  my  father  against  us.  They  wish  me 
not  to  marry  with  a  foreigner.  That  terrible  painting  was  a 
test,  and  I  have  betrayed  us  by  my  woman's  soft  heart. 
Now  they  are  sure  that  the  one  I  love  is  in  Tokio  they  will 
take  stronger  care  against  me.  Dear  Pierre,  I  do  not  think 
there  is  any  hope!  We  can  wait,  —  or  we  can  die! — just 
now  I  believe  nothing  else  is  possible.  0  Pierre !  If  my 
weakness  offend  you,  and  if  already  it  seem  to  you  far  beyond 
any  help, —  if  you,  being  the  impatience,  have  not  heart  to  so 


180  THE   BREATH  OF   THE   GODS 

long  wait,  —  let  me  go !  Forget  poor  Yuki !  Indeed,  I  should 
not  have  promised  at  all.  I  belong  to  my  country,  as  in 
previous  time  I  said.  I  must  not  make  sad  your  bright  life. 
Rather  would  I  be  forgotten,  than  bring  you  to  grief.  Your 
Yuki-ko." 

This  letter  she  addressed  to  Pierre  at  the  French  Legation, 
stamped,  sealed  it,  and  slipped  it  into  the  long,  hanging  sleeve 
of  her  kimono,  intending,  at  the  first  opportunity,  to  get  it 
into  the  hands  of  a  postman.  After  this  she  arranged  her 
hair  and  obi  quickly  and  went  out  into  the  kitchen  where 
already  she  heard  old  Suzumeand  Mam  San  at  work.  Hardly 
had  she  entered  when  the  front  gate  opened  and  the  news- 
paper-boy ran  in,  his  small  copper  bell  clamoring  on  his  hip. 
His  bovine  face  was  crimson  with  suppressed  joy.  Beside  the 
usual  morning  sheet  he  held  out  a  printed  extra,  shaking  it 
toward  her. 

"  Look  at  this !  Honorably  read  these  headlines,  o  jo  san  ! 
Banzai  Nippon  !  "  he  cried. 

Yuki  reached  forward  for  the  hand-bill.  "  It  is  war !  War ! 
Togo  has  fired ! "  she  read,  in  a  low,  tense  voice.  "  War  with 
that  great  brutal  nation,  and  we  have  fired !  0  Nippon ! 
0  my  Emperor !  The  ancient  gods  be  with  you!  " 

"  Three  ships  already  sunk !  Three  !  "  screamed  the  boy, 
wildly,  and  tossed  up  his  foreign  jockey-cap. 

"Kwanuon  preserve  us!  What  has  happened  —  an  earth- 
quake ?  "  cried  old  Suzume,  hastening  from  the  well-curb,  and 
wiping  red  hands  on  her  apron  as  she  came. 

"  War !  War,  nurse !  Our  country  is  at  war  this  minute, 
and  three  Russian  battle-ships  are  already  sunk  ! " 

"  We  '11  .teach  the  bears  that  we  are  not  to  be  trampled  — 
Banzai  Nippon ! "  boasted  the  paper-boy,  as  he  hurried  back  to 
the  street.  , 

Iriya,  not  quite  dressed,  thrust  her  head  from  the  parted 
fusuma. 

"  War,  Mistress !  War,  Master !  The  honorable  Mr.  Togo 
has  sunk  all  the  Russian  battle-ships  and  beheaded  all  the 
generals  with  his  own  hand !  "  shrieked  Suzume.  Maru  began 
to  cry. 

"  War !  "  faltered  Iriya,  and  shrank  back  into  the  dim  room. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       181 

"  Banzai !  May  our  Emperor  live  a  thousand  years  !  "  roared 
Tetsujo.  Those  outside  could  hear  him  hurtling  about  the 
narrow  room.  "Tell  them  to  hang  the  flags  above  the  gate, 
woman !  Quick  !  Every  moment  wasted  is  a  sacrilege  !  Gods 
of  my  Ancestors,  at  last  we  fight!  Would  that  I  were  with 
Togo ! " 

Iriya,  after  giving  orders  for  the  flags,  threw  herself  before 
the  family  shrine,  where  lights  burned  always  in  small,  steady, 
pointed  flames.  "Ancestral  spirits  of  our  home,  old  deities 
of  this  land,  give  strength  to  our  soldiers  and  sailors !  "  she 
whispered. 

Tetsujo  brushed  past  her,  fully  equipped  for  walking.  His 
old  face  twitched  with  eagerness. 

"  Do  you  not  wait  for  your  worthless  breakfast,  honorable 
master?"  ventured  Suzume. 

Onda  gave  a  loud  laugh  and  tossed  the  old  dame  a  handful 
of  coin. 

"  Breakfast !  I  'in  eating  and  drinking  food  of  the  gods  ! 
Here !  Take  this  money,  and  all  of  you  women  go  to  your 
temple  and  make  offering !  I  seek  the  public  places  where 
men  assemble."  Suddenly  he  halted.  Hagane's  last  words 
came  to  his  ears.  His  face  turned  black,  and  he  slowly  walked 
into  the  house  with  bent  head.  "  I  had  forgotten  —  I  cannot 
go.  Serve  the  breakfast  as  usual,"  he  muttered  in  the  voice 
of  an  old  man.  Stumbling  into  the  main  room  he  said  under 
his  breath,  "  Hachiman  Sama,  help  me  to  endure  !  On  a  day 
like  this  —  I,  Onda  Tetsujo  —  I  a  warrior  of  Hagane's  clan  — 
I  must  be  held  here  like  a  tame  cock  in  a  bamboo  basket  ! 
Had  I  not  seen  the  look  in  his  Highness's  eye  —  I  might 
hurl  all  aside  and  take  the  risk  — " 

Soft  footsteps  had  been  following  him.  He  wheeled,  to  face 
Yuki.  Her  eyes  were  gleaming  and  steady,  though  her  face 
had  crimsoned  with  shame.  "  Father,"  she  began  proudly, 
"  I  know  the  reason  of  your  return.  All  your  heart  burns  to 
be  with  other  men,  and  to  hear  full  news  of  this  mighty  event. 
Go,  I  entreat  you !  There  is  no  fear  of  what  —  you  and  Prince 
Hagane  think." 

The  old  warrior  himself  now  showed  embarrassment.  He 
would  not  meet  her  gaze,  but  let  his  eyes  move  restlessly 


182  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

about  the  floor  as  he  answered:  "Yes,  my  old  heart  strains 
like  a  bowstring  to  be  gone  —  and  I  do  not  dare!  You 
defied  me  once,  —  my  blood  grows  hot  at  the  thought  of  it." 

"  Still,  I  am  your  daughter,"  said  Yuki.  "  And  I  think  you 
will  believe  me  when  I  offer  you  my  pledge  that,  from  this 
moment  till  your  return,  even  though  it  be  a  week  hence, 
I  shall  not  leave  this  house  and  garden,  shall  not  admit  a 
foreign  guest  to  it  nor  listen  to  foreign  speech." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Tetsujo,  with  great  relief  in  his  face. 
"  You  will  neither  go  nor  admit  a  foreign  guest  —  nor  write 
and  receive  letters  ?  " 

Yuki  caught  up  her  sleeve.  Onda's  face  darkened.  De- 
liberately drawing  forth  the  letter  she  offered  it  to  her  father, 
saying,  "  Here  is  one  I  have  already  written  and  shall  send. 
Will  you  not  trust  me  even  further  and  be  the  one  by  whose 
hand  it  goes  ?  " 

"  Me  post  it  ?    Me  put  it  in  a  box  ?  "  he  asked  in  amazement. 

"The  meaning  it  bears  is  not  against  your  desire,  father. 
Kather  may  it  destroy  an  evil  that  already  lives.  I  ask  you 
to  take  it." 

"  To  bargain  thus  with  a  mere  girl  — "  the  samurai  mut- 
tered. Then  he  threw  his  head  back.  "  My  blood  is  in  your 
veins.  I  trust  you.  Give  it." 

Yuki,  choking  back  a  little  sob,  fell  at  his  feet  and  touched 
her  forehead  to  the  floor.  She  heard  his  quick  and  heavy 
tread  shiver  through  the  house.  Then  followed,  coming  in  her 
direction,  the  gentler  steps  of  Iriya. 

Yuki  lifted  her  arms.  "Mother,  mother!  "  she  cried  pas- 
sionately, "  why  could  I  not  have  been  born  a  man  ?  To 
die  for  one's  country,  in  battle,  with  the  thought  of  the 
Emperor  like  a  cooling  draught  at  the  lips  !  To  stand  on  the 
great  black  ship,  smiling  in  storm  and  snow  and  fog,  driven  in 
like  fate  itself  to  glorious  chances !  Oh,  that  is  to  live  I  But 
to  be  a  woman  —  " 

"Yes,"  said  Iriya,  quietly  seating  herself.  "The  fortunate 
are  those  who  know,  in  this  incarnation,  full  expression  of  a 
burning  heart." 

"Do  you  feel  so  too,  mother?  —  you,  who  are  always  so 
tranquil  and  so  dear  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       183 

"  I  too  am  a  samurai's  daughter.  In  the  strife  of  Restora- 
tion days  I  saw  my  father  and  my  brother  die  —  I  saw  my 
mother  live." 

"  Oh,  dearest  one,  how  selfish  we  young  souls  are.  We  are 
like  green  fruit  that  has  no  mellowness.  You  have  suffered 
so  deeply  —  and  I  never  guessed." 

Iriya,  with  half-closed  eyes  on  the  garden,  uttered  words 
which  until  the  hour  of  her  death  never  quite  loosed  their 
echoes  from  the  girl's  heart.  "  Young  souls  are  indeed  unripe 
in  the  ways  of  love.  That  suffering  of  mine  was  mere  in- 
difference to  the  grief  I  shall  know  if,  at  an  hour  like  this, 
with  Nippon  in  the  throes  of  re-birth,  my  only  child  should 
become  the  wife  of  her  enemy." 

Yuki  cowered  back.  She  could  not  look  her  mother  in  the 
face.  Up  to  this  moment  she  had  never  dreamed  that  Iriya 
had  been  told  anything.  The  sense  of  comradeship  and  of  in- 
terdependence between  a  Japanese  husband  and  wife  is  very 
strong ;  but  in  this  case,  where  Tetsujo's  angry  violence  had 
been  so  out  of  keeping  with  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life,  Yuki 
was  perhaps  justified  in  feeling  that  he  would  prefer  to  main- 
tain a  sullen  reticence. 

Iriya's  words,  and  the  way  she  spoke  them,  showed  not  only 
that  she  was  conversant  with  the  whole  threatening  situation, 
but  that  she  had  thought  and  prayed  deeply.  It  did  not  seem 
at  all  the  every-day  domestic  Iriya  that  spoke,  but  an  older 
and  more  impersonal  spirit,  issuing  from  borrowed  human 
lips. 

An  uncomfortable  silence  fell  between  them.  Iriya  sat  rigid 
and  upright,  as  a  silver  image  in  a  Buddhist  niche.  Little 
Yuki,  feeling  very  small  and  young  and  human,  crept  noise- 
lessly to  her  own  room. 

Tetsujo  did  not  return  until  the  following  day.  He  showed 
evidences  of  strong  excitement,  and  could  not  for  a  while  be 
seated,  but  strode  up  and  down  the  matted  floor  of  the  house, 
throwing  off  ejaculations  and  phrases  of  war-news.  He  had 
much  to  tell  in  his  irritating,  disjointed  way.  But  Japanese 
women  do  not  show  impatience.  They  knelt  out  of  range  of 
his  feet,  but  within  good  hearing,  following  his  motions  with 


184  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

feverish  eagerness,  and  snatching  at  his  words  as  at  whizzing 
fireflies.  Names  of  those  killed,  quotations  from  foreign 
newspapers,  reports  from  the  Tokio  war-office,  maledictions 
upon  himself  that  he  was  too  old  to  go,  —  all  came  in  a 
scurrying  swarm  from  the  samurai's  lips. 

"  Refused  me  — they  refused  me,  —  those  grinning,  foreign- 
ized  apes  at  the  war-office.  Even  my  daimyo  will  not  help 
me.  An  age  limit  ?  Gods  !  Trained  men  must  twirl  their 
thumbs  while  boys  with  soft  hearts  and  flabby  muscles  defend 
the  Emperor !  Would  that  I  had  ten  thousand  lives  to  give, 
and  that  each  life  in  passing  held  the  agonies  of  ten  thousand 
deaths.  Even  that  would  be  but  a  handful  of  blown  petals  to 
the  whirling  majesty  of  Nippon  in  the  breath  of  the  Eternal.  — 
But  wait !  There  are  many  young  men  now,  there  are  hills 
of  powder  and  river-beds  of  shot;  but  when  that  powder 
melts  like  snow  in  a  spring  rain,  when  the  last  shot  stings  the 
air,  then  may  the  sword-arm  leap  to  usefulness.  The  Cos- 
sacks cut  and  slay  like  demons,  —  why  not  we  ?  For  whom 
then  will  be  the  cry  but  for  old  Onda?  Onda  Tetsujo !  who 
has  cut  three  bodies  through  with  one  slow,  steady  stroke; 
who  has  bared  a  living  bone  so  swiftly  that  the  slain  creature 
turned  inquisitive  eyes  on  death !  Bab,  I  babble  and  rave 
like  a  Meiji  actor." 

"  Yet,  Lord,  it  may  come,  —  it  may  come,"  whispered  Iriya, 
aloud.  "Daily  I  shall  pray  and  sacrifice  that  this  desire  of 
our  hearts  be  granted."  Yuki  looked  upon  these  heroic  be- 
ings that  had  given  her  life,  and  knew  the  pangs  of  self  loath- 
ing. What  was  she,  their  only  child,  now  doing  for  the  laud 
they  loved  ?  Planning  ways  of  remaining  faithful  to  a  foreign 
lover !  She  drooped  her  head  still  lower.  Alas !  Had  Pierre 
not  taken  that  promise  from  her  unguarded  soul !  If  Pierre 
even  now  would  give  her  up  —  would  understand. 

Tetsujo,  still  fuming  in  a  noble  rage,  cut  the  floor  in  cross- 
lines  of  hasty  striding.  He  turned  at  intervals,  catching  back 
his  flight,  raising  himself  up  to  silence  as  if  he  heard  a  bugle- 
note,  staring,  unseeing,  into  the  garden,  then  clenching  his 
fists,  muttering  new  imprecations,  and  throwing  himself  again 
into  his  restless  walk.  The  essence  of  Yamato  Damashii 
breathed  from  him.  One  listened  for  the  clank  of  steel  and 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  185 

shark's-skin  armor.  His  right  hand  felt  incessantly  for  the 
vanished  sword-hilts.  All  at  once  he  stopped  directly  before 
Yuki,  transfixed  her  with  fierce,  tormented  eyes  and  cried, 
"Ouda  Yuki,  you  are  a  samurai's  daughter." 

Yuki  met  his  look.     "  I  am  a  samurai's  daughter." 

"  See  that  you  forget  it  not." 

For  an  instant  longer  he  glared  into  her  upraised  face,  then 
flinging  himself  away  he  muttered,  "  Oh,  that  I  had  a  son  to 
offer,  —  one  son  only  to  serve  my  land  !  They  would  not  let 
me  go."  He  seated  himself  at  last ;  folded  his  arms  within 
the  short,  blue,  cotton  sleeves ;  and  sank  into  a  brooding 
revery. 

With  a  few  days  the  first  frenzy  and  tumult  of  the  war 
were  over.  The  nation  settled  into  a  state  of  watchful  and 
sober  patriotism.  Men  turned  to  practical  work,  raising 
money  for  the  war  fund,  for  all  knew  that  it  was  indeed  a 
struggle  for  life  or  death. 

Yuki  had  received  by  mail  another  letter.  Tetsujo  was 
present  when  it  came.  She  read  and  re-read  it  slowly,  under 
his  very  eyes,  and  then  tore  it  into  scraps,  letting  them  fall  in 
small  white  flecks  upon  the  red  coals  of  the  hibachi.  Onda 
stared  at  her,  fascinated,  but  found  nothing  to  say. 

The  note  was  in  Pierre's  most  appealing  vein.  He  urged 
her,  for  the  sake  of  both,  to  be  a  heroine.  He  forgave  her,  a 
thousand  times  over,  her  hint  of  betrayal  of  the  night  before. 
Again  he  congratulated  himself  and  her  on  his  foresight  in 
compelling  the  stricter  pledge.  "  You  must  see  now,  my  poor, 
sorrowful  darling,  that  it  is  the  only  thing  to  hold  us  back 
from  despair."  Yuki's  heart  sagged  within  her.  She  at- 
tempted no  reply.  She  wondered  dully  how  so  flaming  a 
love  failed  to  illuminate  reason..  Pierre  simply  could  not 
understand.  Well,  she  must  be  calm  and  clear  enough 
for  both.  Her  deepest  fear,  but  half  admitted,  was  that 
Tetsujo,  with  Prince  Hagane  behind,  would  now  attempt 
to  end  the  matter  by  marrying  her  to  some  young  noble 
of  their  acquaintance.  She  hardly  dared  face  the  thought  of 
what  her  home  life  might  become  after  her  repudiation  of 
such  an  offer. 

Gwendolen  remained  apart,  and  Yuki  rightly  guessed  that 


186  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

it  was  at  Minister  Todd's  instigation.  She  never  for  a  moment 
doubted  Gwendolen's  loyal  affection.  This  restraint  was  a 
proof  of  it,  as  also  of  Mr.  Todd's  clear  judgment. 

Pierre  began  now,  in  his  restless  misery,  to  haunt  the  streets 
immediately  surrounding  Yuki's  home.  Apparently  he  wished 
to  establish,  as  a  signal,  a  certain  little  quaint  air  from  Car- 
men that  he  loved.  He  would  whistle  a  phrase  and  pause, 
evidently  expecting  her  to  continue  with  the  answering  melody. 
At  twilight,  one  day  nearly  a  week  after  "  the  banquet  of  the 
Eed  God  "  (as  she  always  thought  of  it),  she  was  standing 
alone  beside  her  plum-tree,  now  almost  bare  of  flowers.  The 
sky  stretched  low  and  heavy,  as  a  giant  tent  hung  with  un- 
spilled  rain.  No  sunlight  had  come  with  the  day.  The  wind 
pinched  and  stung  with  dampness.  As  she  stared  mournfully 
upon  the  falling  petals,  holding  out  a  languid  hand  to  stay 
their  flight,  a  few  large  flakes  of  snow  came  down. 

"  I  gathered  petals,  to  show  thee,  love. 
But  now,  in  my  hands  they  have  melted  — " 

she  quoted  aloud  from  a  classic. 

Her  parents  had  been  talking  together  in  the  main  corner- 
room,  where  now  a  servant  brought  lights.  On  the  closed 
paper  shoji,  just  beside  her,  the  silhouettes  of  two  beloved 
forms  sprang  into  sudden  vivid  blackness.  Tetsujo's  stern, 
Indian-like  profile  was  turned,  while  Iriya  showed  only  the 
outlines  of  her  coiffure,  with  the  droop  of  slender  shoulders 
and  the  flower-like  poise  of  a  delicate  throat.  His  attitude,  — 
all  dignity,  self-assertion,  manliness ;  and  hers,  concessive, 
yielding,  and  full  of  feminine  grace,  —  symbolized  to  the  girl 
the  true  relations,  in  Japan,  of  man  and  wife.  "  And  is  it  not 
better  ?  "  she  thought  to  herself.  "  Are  the  aggressive  Amer- 
ican women  happier  or  more  beloved?"  She  thought  of  the 
domestic  scandals,  the  unhappy  marriages  openly  discussed 
at  Mrs.  Todd's  table.  Here,  at  least,  though  such  sad  things 
did  sometimes  occur,  they  seldom  became  topics  of  general 
conversation. 

The  bell  of  the  front  gate  rang  out  through  the  gray  air. 
Yuki,  with  a  sudden  leap  of  the  heart  she  could  not  account 
for,  threw  an  arm  about  the  tree  and  clung  to  it,  listening 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       187 

breathlessly.  Through  the  paper-walled  house  came  clearly 
the  sounds  of  old  Suzume  as  she  opened  the  door.  "  Hai ! 
Hai!  Sayo  de  gozaiinasu.  Hai,  danna!"  (Yes,  yes.  It  is 
augustly  so !  Yes,  master.)  Even  the  sharp  indrawn  breath 
was  audible.  Surely  it  was  a  visitor  of  importance,  —  and  not 
a  foreigner.  In  an  instant  a  third  silhouette  was  added  to 
the  two  in  the  room.  This  bore  a  small  parcel  in  its  hands, 
and  bowed  very  deeply  before  Tetsujo. 

"  A  messenger  direct  from  the  august  Prince  Hagane ! " 
said  Suzume's  proud  voice. 

Yuki  saw  the  shadow  of  her  father  snatch  the  package  and 
toss  aside  the  cloth  furoshiki  in  which  it  was  wrapped.  She 
saw  the  shadow  open  a  letter,  start,  bend  his  head  nearer. 
She  saw  strong  shadow-hands  tremble,  and  heard  a  voice, 
which  strove  in  vain  for  steadiness,  give  the  orders :  "  Fold 
the  furoshiki  carefully,  and  return  it  done  up  in  clean  paper. 
Give  to  the  messenger  my  respects.  There  is  no  immediate 
reply.  Offer  him  fresh  tobacco,  tea,  and  cakes  —  the  best  we 
have." 

"  Hai !  Hai !  Kashikomarimasu  "  (Yes,  yes  !  I  hear  and 
respectfully  obey),  murmured  Suzume's  voice.  Her  shadow 
bobbed  once,  twice,  to  the  matting,  and  vanished. 

Yuki  gripped  the  tree  hard.  A  messenger  from  Prince 
Hagane !  and  that  deep,  triumphant  note  in  her  father's 
voice  !  What  could  it  mean  ? 

The  shadow  of  Iriya  was  now  reading  the  note.  A  cry 
came.  "  O  my  husband !  It  is  too  wonderful  —  too  splendid. 
It  will  solve  all  difficulties.  I  must  not  believe  —  " 

On  the  cowering  girl  white  snowflakes,  her  namesakes,  fell 
now  quickly,  dotting  her  dark  hair.  One,  falling  on  a 
cheek  as  white,  melted  slowly,  and  pretended  that  it  was  a 
tear. 

"  Call  the  girl ! "  said  Tetsujo.  Iriya  rose  in  haste.  Yuki 
sped  back  along  the  narrow  veranda  to  her  own  room.  "  And 
summon  the  two  serving-women  also  ! "  came  Tetsujo's  voice, 
on  a  higher  note. 

Yuki  entered  with  what  calmness  she  could.  The  two  ser- 
vants already  squatted  like  bright-eyed  toads  in  the  doorway. 

"Here,  girl!     Head  this  letter  from  his  Highness,  Prince 


188  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Hagane,"  said  Onda.  "  Bow,  as  you  receive  it  into  your 
unworthy  hands." 

The  girl  bowed  obediently.  She  read  the  letter  through 
without  a  flicker  of  change  on  her  downcast  face.  Folding  it 
with  scrupulous  care  she  returned  it,  again  bowing,  to  her 
wondering  father. 

"  Well,"  he  cried,  "  are  your  wits  gone  ?  What  have  you 
to  say  ?  " 

"  His  Highness  does  our  house  too  much  honor,"  answered 
Yuki,  quietly. 

Iriya,  watching  breathlessly,  saw  what  the  puzzled  Onda 
did  not  see,  that,  in  spite  of  superb  self-control,  a  slow,  sick 
pallor  was  stealing  into  the  girl's  face.  Behind  Iriya  the 
two  servants,  drawn  closer  as  by  a  magnet,  vibrated  to  sup- 
pressed excitement. 

Onda  caught  the  look  of  their  faces.  "  Suzume !  "  he  said, 
"your  young  mistress  has  just  been  asked  in  marriage  by  his 
Augustness,  Prince  Hagane,  daimyo  of  our  clan." 

"  Ma-a-a !  "  breathed  the  women  in  unison,  and  fell  forward 
on  their  faces. 

"You  see  what  they  think  of  it,"  said  Tetsujo,  with  a  half- 
contemptuous  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  my  daughter,"  cried  Iriya,  "  it  is  an  honor  so  great 
that  I  cannot  yet  meet  the  thought  of  it.  You  will  be  like  a 
Princess  of  the  Blood.  Our  sacred  Empress  will  meet  you 
face  to  face  as  a  friend." 

Tetsujo  broke  in.  "  You  can  serve  your  country,  girl ! 
That's  the  best  of  it.  The  opportunity  is  incredible.  It 
does  not  need  argument.  Well,  Yuki !  Will  you  write  your 
humble  and  grateful  acceptance  in  person,  or  shall  I  convey  it 
for  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  accepted  yet." 

Tetsujo  bounded  in  his  place.  Iriya  caught  her  breath,  and 
stretched  forth  two  pleading  hands,  one  to  each. 

"Do  not  anger  me,  girl!"  muttered  the  father,  with  visible 
effort  to  contain  himself.  "  I  am  in  no  mood  for  violence." 

"  Nor  I,  father,  being  already  spent  with  much  contention," 
answered  Yuki,  wearily.  "Indeed,  I  should  attempt  no 
speech  at  all,  but  that  I  see  his  Highness  shields  me  by 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       189 

commands  against  rough  argument,  and  the  condition  that  I 
be  given  full  time  to  decide." 

"Bah,"  cried  Tetsujo.  "Even  a  god  must  have  some  small 
weaknesses.  Pity  to  women  ha's  always  been  his.  —  Well, 
when  shall  your  answer  go  —  to-night,  in  the  morning,  on 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun  ?  Speak !  for  my  choler  trains  me 
hard!" 

But  Yuki  did  not  hasten  to  reply.  Behind  her  rigid  calm 
a  thousand  frightened  fancies  sped.  No  thought  could  be  fol- 
lowed to  a  conclusion  in  this  first  whirl  of  atoms.  They  went 
by  her  in  a  soundless  hurricane.  —  torn  bits  of  hope,  fila- 
ments of  fear,  thin  flakes  of  readjustment.  She  saw  that 
time  must  be  gained  —  time,  and  the  opportunity  to  think. 
An  unqualified  refusal  would  bring  upon  her  immediately 
consequences  and  new  conditions  which  she  was  neither 
physically  nor  mentally  able  to  combat.  She  must  achieve 
an  armistice. 

After  an  interval  that  seemed  long  to  her  but  interminable 
to  the  quivering  Onda,  she  raised  her  face,  saying  quietly : 
"  After  a  space  of  three  days,  at  the  hour  of  twilight,  I  will 
myself  deliver  an  answer  to  Prince  Hagane.  Will  you  kindly 
convey  this  message  ?  " 

"  She  will  answer  in  three  days !  Lord  of  Hell !  she  will 
condescend  to  answer  my  daimyo  in  three  days  !  This  bit  of 
spoken  offal  —  must  I  present  to  a  deity  who  burdens  himself 
with  you  —  that  your  family  may  be  honored,  and  your  cheap 
foreign  attainments  used  !  His  magnanimity  is  inconceivable. 
To  a  lesser  man  it  would  seem  impossible.  To  marry  you 
openly,  —  make  you  a  princess,  —  you,  a  shivering  wench  he 
could  have  for  the  taking !  " 

"  He  could  not  have  me  for  the  taking,  and  you  know  it !  " 
said  Yuki's  low  voice,  that  held  an  undercurrent  of  his  own. 
"  You  shame  yourself  and  me  by  such  raving.  If  you  insult 
me  further  I  will  refuse  at  once." 

"Come,  Yuki!  Come  quickly!"  whispered  the  terrified 
Iriya,  dragging  at  her  daughter's  sleeve.  "  Your  honored  father 
will  strangle  in  his  rage.  Never,  never,  in  all  our  married  life 
have  I  seen  his  eyes  glare  thus !  Hasten ! " 

"Yes  —  hasten  —  drag  her  away!"  gasped  Tetsujo,  throw- 


190  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

ing  back  his  head  and  clutching  his  collar.  "  She  is  not  my 
daughter!  Would  that  my  bones  had  crumbled  — "  His 
words  broke  off  in  a  gurgle. 

In  her  little  room  Yuki  stood  gazing  down  moodily  upon  the 
convulsed  form  of  her  mother.  "  I  know  I  ought  to  feel  more 
paiu  to  see  you  weep  so  bitterly,  my  mother,"  she  said  at 
length.  "  I  tell  myself  that  I  should  feel,  but  I  cannot  feel. 
Somehow  I  seem  to  be  wearing  armor  inside  instead  of  outside. 
Think  of  it,  mother,  what  it  means  to  me!  I  love  a  man  who 
loves  me  honorably.  I  do  not  ask  a  sudden  marriage,  —  I  would 
wait  patiently  until  the  war  is  over,  and  perhaps  your  heart 
and  father's  would  be  softened  toward  my  hope.  I  will  work 
for  you,  —  I  will  go  out  and  be  a  servant,  a  teacher,  —  anything 
to  relieve  you  of  my  burden.  All  I  ask  is  to  remain  uncom- 
pelled  toward  other  marriage.  Yet  here  my  father,  and  an 
old  man  older  than  my  father,  are  trapping  me,  —  they  con- 
descend to  trap  me  !  Prince  Hagane  cannot  possibly  wish  me 
for  his  wife.  He  has  seen  me  but  twice  since  I  was  a  child. 
A  man  like  Hagane  does  not  know  love  in  the  sense  I  have  been 
taught  it.  Oh,  I  am  like  a  bird  ensnared  in  chains  —  in  chains 
so  heavy — that  I  can  scarcely  stir  a  link !  Being  a  samurai's 
daughter  I  caunot  even  die." 

"  Yuki !  Would  you  indeed  disgrace  us  by  marrying  —  a 
Russian  ?  " 

"Not  so  long  as  it  seems  to  you  a  disgrace.  But  that  will 
not  last  forever,  mother.  This  war  is  to  change  many  things. 
Can  I  not  belong  to  myself,  just  for  the  time  of  this  war, 
mother  ?  Will  you  not  plead  with  father  for  this  boon  ?  " 

"  I  dare  not !  I  dare  not !  "  shuddered  Iriya.  "  I  fear  your 
father,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  —  There  !  He  is  calling. 
I  must  go."  She  caught  one  of  the  girl's  dangling  hands 
and  pressed  it  convulsively  against  a  tear-wet  cheek.  "  May 
Kwannon  soothe  your  bewildered  heart,  my  loved  one  !  "  she 
murmured,  and  was  gone. 

"  I  prefer  you  to  have  as  little  as  possible  to  do  with  that 
hardened  and  ungrateful  wretch ! "  came  Tetsujo's  voice,  as 
Iriya  entered  to  him.  Yuki  knew  that  it  was  raised  purposely 
for  her  to  hear.  Iriya  evidently  attempted  some  conciliatory 
reply,  for  he  burst  out  angrily,  "Don't  defend  her,  woman! 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       191 

It  is  disrespect  to  me.    I  tell  you  she  shall  consent,  whether 
she  wishes  it  or  not ! " 

Yuki  smiled  the  smile  that  leaves  a  taint  upon  the  soul. 
"  There  are  a  few  things  that  even  a  father  —  even  a  Japanese 
father  —  cannot  do  !"  she  said  aloud. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

IF  previous  days  in  the  Onda  household  had  been  tense, 
those  following  were  to  reach  the  ultimate  limit  of  nerve- 
endurance.  Immediately  after  his  last  tempestuous  scene 
with  Yuki,  Tetsujo  had  left  the  house.  Yuki  was  minded 
to  call  after  him,  protesting  that  her  promise  given  him  on 
the  first  day  of  war  did  not  hold  indefinitely.  She  moved 
forward,  the  words  nearly  sped,  when  he  turned  on  her  a  look 
and  gesture  so  repellent  that  she  cowered,  and  let  him  pass. 
It  did  not  seem  at  all  her  father  who  now  looked  at  her,  but 
rather  some  angry  Spirit  of  War,  in  temporary  assumption  of 
Onda's  body. 

War !  War !  War !  The  streets  thrilled  to  it.  The  spar- 
rows chirped  it.  The  jinrikisha  wheels  rattled  a  pygmy  fu- 
sillade. In  this  flare  of  national  ardor  all  passions  burned 
more  hotly,  and  among  them,  Tetsujo's  indignation  against 
his  only  child.  Iriya,  being  more  inexperienced  than  Yuki 
herself  in  interpretation  of  men's  fiercer  moods,  could  not  tell 
her  that  such  caloric  outbursts  would  die  the  sooner  from  their 
own  exaggeration.  Yuki  moaned,  and  shut  her  hot  eyes  from 
a  future  where  her  father  should  always  be  angry,  and  her 
mother  always  trembling. 

Early  next  day,  after  the  reading  of  Hagane's  letter,  the 
women  of  Onda's  house  were  surprised  to  find  their  domestic 
retinue  silently  increased  by  the  addition  of  two  grim,  middle- 
aged  men  who  called  themselves  gardeners.  From  their  read- 
ing of  all  "  War  Extras  "  that  the  jangling  bell  of  the  newsboy 
announced,  and  from  their  sporadic  aud  often  devastating 
attacks  on  harmless  shrubs,  one  might  have  doubted  their 
skill  in  the  professed  art.  Tetsujo  disdained  explanation, 
and  gave  the  one  order  that  they  were  to  be  suitably  fed  at 
meal-times  in  the  kitchen,  and  treated  with  the  consideration 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       193 

due  to  servants  hired  specially  by  himself.  Iriya  had  not 
the  heart,  scarcely  the  curiosity,  to  question.  All  that  day 
she  moved  about,  a  silent,  timid  figure  of  protesting  obedience. 
Yuki  understood  at  once  that  her  mother  had  been  told  to 
ignore  her.  She  understood,  also,  the  meaning  of  the  so- 
called  "gardeners,"  and  turned  to  her  father  slow,  scornful 
eyes,  which  he  refused  to  meet. 

What  the  young  seldom  realize,  in  a  case  like  this,  is  the 
suffering  of  those  in  authority,  who,  according  to  adolescent 
eyes,  delight  in  imparting  sorrow.  Yuki  was  convinced  that 
this  strange  changeling  of  a  father  revelled  in  his  cruelty. 
She  forced  herself  into  defiant  composure,  chiefly  in  the  hope 
of  detracting  from  his  supposed  enjoyment.  Her  mother's 
white  face  was  another  matter.  She  looked  on  that  just  as 
little  as  possible.  Old  Suzume  and  Maru  grew  to  partake 
of  their  master's  elfish  obsession.  Their  peering  faces  and 
bright  eyes,  quickly  withdrawn,  maddened  her. 

No  hope  or  thought  of  solution  had  come  through  the 
troubled  night,  nor,  as  yet,  with  the  gray  day.  Tetsujo  had 
gone,  presumably,  to  convey  the  detested  message  to  his 
prince.  Yuki's  one  conscious  determination  was  to  send  an- 
other message  to  Pierre,  which  should  state  clearly  and  com- 
prehensively the  new  difficulty  that  had  assailed  her.  Almost 
certainly  her  father  had  arranged  that  no  more  letters  should 
go  forth  or  be  received.  The  gardeners  and  Suzume  would 
see  to  that.  At  times  she  had  a  wild  fancy  of  attempting 
flight,  urging  Pierre  to  rescue  her  in  the  fashion  of  mediaeval 
romance,  and  to  take  her  to  the  Todds,  or  to  some  Christian 
missionary,  where  they  could  be  married  and  so  set  beyond 
the  reach  of  Hagane  and  her  father.  But  would  it  set  her 
beyond  the  black  tide  of  her  own  remorse  ?  How  then  should 
she  reconcile  her  fondest  belief,  that  in  a  union  with  Pierre 
she  might  serve  to  bring  closer  French  and  Japanese  friend- 
ship ?  This  would  be  outrage,  anarchy,  at  the  start.  Yet 
something  must  be  done,  —  something  at  least  to  remove 
her,  temporarily,  from  her  father's  loathing  sight  after  she 
should  have  refused  Hagane's  proposition.  In  this,  perhaps, 
Pierre  himself  could  assist,  or  Gwendolen, — if  she  could 
only  see  Gwendolen.  "  Gwendolen ! "  She  stretched  out  her 

13 


194  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

arms  to  the  sunless,  vacant  sky,  and  called  her  friend's  name 
aloud. 

Whether  telepathy  is  a  fact,  or  merely  a  pet  child  of  some 
philosophers,  whether  or  not  the  ether  of  the  East  holds 
subtler  vibrations  than  our  own,  it  is  certain  that  exactly  at 
this  moment  Gwendolen  awoke  in  her  foreign  bed  from  hurry- 
ing dreams  of  Yuki,  and  lay  awake,  staring,  a  sudden  weight  of 
apprehension  full  upon  her.  The  excitement  of  war  may  have 
sharpened  American  senses  also.  Gwendolen's  mind  ran  back 
for  the  hundredth  time  to  that  strange,  memorable  banquet. 
Its  meaning  grew  now  more  sharp  and  sinister.  Something 
had  taken  place  there,  something  intangible,  but  very  real, 
something  decisive,  fatal,  the  effect  of  which  would  first  ap- 
pear in  Yuki.  Gwendolen  had  as  her  birthright  some  of 
her  father's  intuitive  judgment  of  character.  She  had  read  that 
night  the  hatred  of  foreigners  in  Tetsujo's  sullen  face,  and 
did  not  dislike  him  for  it.  Hagane  baffled  her ;  but  she  had 
noted  how  deep  were  the  eyes  fixed  now  on  Yuki,  now  on 
Pierre.  Neither  of  them  would  wish  for  Yuki  to  become  the 
wife  of  Pierre,  and  neither  did  Gwendolen  wish  it.  The  girl 
smiled  curiously  at  her  feeling  of  distaste.  It  did  not  seem 
right  for  Yuki  to  marry  a  foreigner,  even  an  utterly  charming 
and  immorally  beautiful  foreigner  like  Pierre  Le  Beau. 

"  I  guess  I  must  have  been  a  Japanese  in  lots  of  my  former 
incarnations,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Yuki  declares  it's  so, 
and  she  should  know.  But  — "  here  she  stopped  and  drew 
out  her  long,  unbound  yellow  hair  in  two  diaphanous,  glittering 
wings.  "  The  fates  certainly  have  put  my  Oriental  soul,  this 
time,  into  a  misleading  body ! "  She  was  dressing  now,  and 
stood  before  her  pretty  silver-laden  bureau  by  a  sunny  south 
window  of  the  Legation. 

About  two  hours  later  of  the  same  day  Minister  Todd  and 
his  secretary,  sitting  alone  in  the  thrice-guarded  sanctum  of 
the  former's  private  office,  looked  up  in  incredulous  astonish- 
ment as  a  dainty  tapping  betrayed  a  feminine  guest.  Then 
Todd's  thin  smile  widened.  "  Gwennie,  I  '11  bet !  —  and  on 
the  war-path  !  Only  that  little  rascal  would  have  the  cheek." 

Dodge  turned  away  to  hide  the  glow  in  his  brown  face. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       195 

Gwennie  it  proved  to  be.  She  entered,  dainty,  perfumed,  ex- 
quisite, in  tan-cloth  dress  and  seal-skins  that  exactly  matched 
her  brows  and  lashes. 

"  I  don't  expect  to  be  welcomed,"  she  said  aggressively,  her 
little  white  chin  high  in  air.  "  But  I  simply  had  to  come." 

"Well?"     This  was  from  the  minister. 

Before  stating  her  plea,  Gwendolen  threw  a  bewildering 
look  of  entreaty  upon  the  gloating  Dodge.  "  Dad,  I  can't 
stand  it !  I  have  n't  seen  or  heard  anything  from  Yuki  for  a 
week.  Pierre  Le  Beau  is  driving  me  mad;  and  last  night  I 
had  the  scariest  dream  about  Yuki.  I  feel  in  my  bones  that 
she  needs  me.  Let  me  go  to  her,  dad !  Dearest,  darlingest 
diddy-daddy,  say  I  can  go  !  " 

Todd  put  a  loving  arm  about  the  supplicant,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  shook  his  head.  "  Can't  you  be  patient  just  a  little 
longer,  girlie  ?  Something  is  bound  to  turn  up  soon." 

"  If  Prince  Hagane  is  in  it,  it  will  be  worse  than  a  turn-up ; 
it  will  be  a  heave,"  said  Dodge,  shaking  his  head  also. 

"  But,  dad,  I  have  been  patient.  You  know  how  I  hate  being 
patient.  I  'm  perfectly  on  edge  when  I  have  to  wait.  Every 
little  bit  of  me  begs  to  be  cut  off,  and  allowed  to  run  in 
scraps.  Oh,  don't  look  so  solemn!  I'm  only  a  girl.  I  can't 
upset  the  earth.  Everything  has  gone  wrong  this  morning 
from  the  minute  I  stepped  out  of  bed  on  a  tailless  cat.  You 
can  make  it  well,  daddy.  My  heart  simply  tugs  in  me  toward 
Yuki." 

At  mention  of  her  heart  Dodge  gave  a  prolonged  and  "envi- 
ous sigh.  Todd  smiled,  but  Gwendolen  only  looked  indignant. 
Tears  stood  in  her  pretty  eyes,  and  Dodge  felt  himself  to  be  a 
brute. 

"Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  "if  I  might  be  allowed  to 
suggest,  why  not  let  me  be  Miss  Todd's  escort  ?  If  I  am 
along,  I  think,  perhaps  — "  He  broke  off  with  a  significant 
intonation.  The  two  men  exchanged  glances,  and  the  elder, 
catching  his  chin  with  a  characteristic  gesture,  walked  away 
thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  when  dad  looks  like  that,  he  is  going  over  the  entire 
American  Constitution  before  he  answers,"  cried  Gwendolen, 
in  despair.  "  May  I  not  sit  somewhere,  Mr.  Dodge  ?  " 


196  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

There  were  but  three  chairs  in  the  room,  the  two  revolving 
desk-chairs,  and  one  suggestively  rigid  and  slippery,  meant 
for  visitors.  Generally,  as  now,  it  was  heaped  with  a  totter- 
ing mass  of  papers.  Dodge,  with  suspicious  alacrity,  leaned 
forward  to  wheel  the  minister's  chair.  Before  he  could  reach 
it,  Gwendolen  had  thrown  herself  into  the  other,  and  faced 
the  open  vitals  of  his  private  desk. 

In  the  very  centre,  just  out  of  range  of  the  minister's 
eye,  stood  an  unframed  photograph  of  Carmen  Gil  y  Niestra, 
a  languorous  Spanish  beauty  lately  arrived  in  Tokio.  The 
picture  had  come  that  morning  by  mail,  and  was  only  waiting 
to  be  carried  to  Dodge's  rooms ;  but  Gwendolen  could  not 
know  that.  She  was  humiliated  and  annoyed  to  feel  a  deep, 
dry  sob  rise  to  her  throat.  At  another  time,  when  her  best 
friend  was  not  in  trouble,  and  she  had  n't  stepped  on  the  cat, 
she  would  have  made  some  bright  remark  about  it ;  but  now 
she  dared  not  trust  her  voice. 

Dodge,  carefully  removing  the  papers  to  the  floor,  seated 
himself  on  the  visitor's  chair,  and  let  his  eyes  rest  with  a 
curious,  half-triumphant  look  upon  Gwendolen's  downcast 
face.  This  young  man,  unlike  others  to  whom  she  had  chosen 
to  show  favor,  had  not  hastened  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet, 
pleading  to  be  sat  upon,  trod  upon,  built  upon,  anything  but 
the  one  obvious  suggestion  that  he  rise  and  walk  away.  He 
had  never  tried  to  take  her  hand ;  never  once  said  that  he 
loved  her,  though  the  girl  until  this  moment  had  felt  certain 
of  it.  Sometimes  she  had  tried  to  flatter  him  into  the  declara- 
tion ;  again  she  would  pique  and  goad  him.  The  result  had 
been  the  same.  Dodge  followed  her  everywhere,  paid  her  all 
possible  attentions,  and  said  everything  but  the  one  thing  she 
had  determined  to  hear.  With  an  instinctive  coquette,  the 
desire  is  not  so  much  to  overcome  her  quarry,  as  to  feel  that 
there  is  no  quarry  she  cannot  overcome.  But  even  from  the 
seductive  moonlit  decks  of  the  steamship  Dodge  had  escaped, 
uncommitted.  The  situation  was  both  piquant  and  exciting. 

"Well,  Dodge,"  said  the  ambassador,  at  length.  "I  am 
willing  to  take  your  suggestion.  Is  the  carriage  ready, 
Gwen  ?  " 

"  It 's  been  at  your  door  for  hours." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       197 

"  I  '11  let  you  go,  since  you  seem  to  feel  so  set  on  it.  But 
be  careful  of  what  you  say  or  do,  and  don't  promise  anything. 
Give  little  Snowflake  iny  love,  and  tell  her  I  miss  her  about 
the  house." 

Gwendolen,  without  a  word  of  thanks,  walked  toward  the 
door.  "Now,  Dodge,  remember,"  warned  her  father,  in  a 
semi-whisper. 

"  If  Mr.  Dodge  is  being  sent  along  as  a  sort  of  diplomatic 
nurse,  or  a  keeper  to  an  idiot,  I  won't  have  him,"  flashed 
the  girl. 

"Nonsense,  child!"  said  her  father.  "You'd  better  run 
along  in  a  hurry  before  I  change  my  mind.  I  don't  know 
but  as  I  'm  weak  —  " 

Without  waiting  for  more,  the  girl  literally  ran  from  the 
room.  Clerks  and  visitors  in  the  outside  offices  looked  up  in 
wonder.  That  dry  sob  in  her  throat  had  stirred  again.  Even 
her  dad,  on  this  horrid  day,  was  cross. 

Outside  the  sun  had  begun  to  shine  brilliantly.  The  high 
winds,  those  scourges  of  the  Tokio  winter,  were,  for  the  time, 
at  rest.  The  people  in  the  streets  appeared  contented  and 
happy  enough,  trudging  along  on  wooden  clogs,  or  trotting 
with  noiseless,  straw-sandalled  feet  between  the  shafts  of 
vehicles.  The  small  boys  wore  miniature  flags  in  their  caps. 

When  again  she  felt  mistress  of  her  voice,  she  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  her  usual  gay  levity,  "  Now,  Mr.  Dodge,  I  intend 
to  know  what  all  that  mysterious  interchange  of  glances  in  the 
office  was  supposed  to  convey." 

Dodge  seemed  to  think.  "  I  should  fancy  you  'd  know  by 
instinct,"  he  answered.  "Japan  and  Russia  are  at  war. 
America  is  neutral." 

"Yes,"  challenged  Gwendolen,  "and  the  earth  goes  around 
the  sun,  and  the  moon  around  the  earth.  But  what  is  that 
to  Yuki  and  to  me  ? " 

"  You  are  the  daughter  of  the  American  minister,  and  Miss 
Yuki  is  under  the  protection  of  Prince  Hagane.  It's  the 
bother  of  marriage.  You  must  see  that  she  can  never  marry 
Le  Beau.  The  worst  of  it  all  is  that  Le  Beau's  such  an 
ass!" 

"  I  don't  consider  my  friend,  Mr.  Le  Beau,  an  —  er  —  animal," 


198  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

said  Gwendolen,  all  the  more  stiffly  that  her  statement  was 
not  quite  true. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  her  companion,  meekly,  and  re- 
lapsed into  careful  silence. 

Gwendolen  fidgeted.  This  did  not  suit  her  mood  at  all. 
She  wanted  to  quarrel.  "  Yuki  and  Pierre  are  frantically  in 
love,  poor  things !  But  of  course  an  incipient  diplomat 
doesn't  take  into  consideration  anything  so  trivial  as  — 
love." 

Dodge  smiled  into  her  petulant  eyes,  a  sort  of  elder-brother 
smile  that  stung  her.  "If  I  am  the  incipient  referred  to, 
you  have  missed  your  mark." 

"  You  pretend  to  be  Pierre's  friend,  but  you  never  did  like 
him." 

"  When  have  I  pretended  ?  " 

"You  are  jealous  because  he  is  so  good-looking.  All  men 
are  that  way." 

"Aren't  girls  sometimes  that  way  too?"  asked  he,  with 
elaborate  innocence. 

The  shot  told.  She  reddened  angrily.  "You  are  very 
disagreeable  this  morning,  Mr.  Dodge." 

Again  fell  silence. 

"  Come,"  said  the  girl,  changing  her  tactics  swiftly.  "  It 
is  I  who  am  beastly,  I  know  it.  I  'm  going  to  try  now  to 
be  good.  Tell  me  honestly,  as  a  friend,  do  you  think  that 
Pierre  has  absolutely  no  chance  of  marrying  Yuki  ?  " 

Dodge  studied  the  restless  eyes  for  sincerity  before  he 
answered.  "He  has  a  chance.  If  she  is  willing  to  throw 
over  her  parents,  her  Emperor,  and  her  native  land,  in  order 
to  run  away  to  him,  —  they  may  find  protection.  But  if  I 
know  Japanese  character  at  all,  Miss  Yuki  would  die  first  — 
and  she  ought  to.  The  one  decent  thing  for  Le  Beau  is  to 
release  her." 

"But  to  run  away,  by  night  perhaps,  in  actual  danger  of 
her  life  —  oh, how  romantic! "  sighed  Gwendolen,  clasping  her 
hands.  It  was  done  to  irritate,  and  it  succeeded. 

"  Romantic  ?  Damf oolic  ! "  sniffed  Dodge,  before  he  could 
stop  himself. 

"  Mr.  Dodge ! " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       199 

"By  George,  it  slipped  out!  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss 
Todd,  I  should  not  have  said  it." 

"For  what  do  you  ask  pardon — the  expression,  or  the 
thought?" 

"  The  expression,  of  course.  I  was  a  mucker  to  use  it  in 
your  presence." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  the  thought  underlying  your 
remarkable  utterance  is  unchanged  ? " 

"Why,  er  —  that  such  a  step  would  be  foolish,  and — er  — 
unworthy  ?  "  stammered  the  wretched  youth,  now  as  greatly 
disconcerted  as  even  Gwendolen  could  wish;  "why,  of 
course  I  still  think  it.  I  have  to  think  it!" 

"I  approved  of  it  openly.  I  demand  retraction  of  the 
thought  also." 

Gwendolen's  chance  had  come.  Here  was  a  bone,  —  a  flimsy 
cartilage,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  thing  to  pick  her  quarrel  over. 
In  the  making-up  she  might  find  compensation  for  other  recent 
chagrins.  Gwendolen  liked  to  make  up.  The  magnanimous 
yielding,  the  condescension  on  her  part,  added  to  the  humble 
gratitude  of  the  recipient,  brought  a  sense  of  pleasant  power. 

"  You  demand  retraction  of  the  thought,"  repeated  Dodge. 
He  faced  her  slowly.  She  was  deliberately  studying  the  two 
American  flags  embroidered  between  the  blue  cotton  shoulders 
of  the  carriage-driver,  high  on  the  box.  The  delicate  profile, 
uplifted  in  sunlight,  had  a  translucency  in  the  outline  like 
the  petal  of  a  rose.  Dodge  gazed  with  hungry  heart,  but  deep- 
ening frown.  "  You  did  n't  mean  that."  He  said  it  soothingly. 
"You  couldn't  insist  on  anything  so  utterly  childish  as  the 
retraction  of  a  personal  thought.  I  've  apologized  for  the 
words." 

"  Do  you  refuse,  then  ?  "  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  toss  of  the 
head  she  had  seen  Julia  Marlowe  give. 

"  You  really  mean  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  I  mean  it." 

«  Then  —  I  refuse." 

The  girl  turned.  This  time  it  was  Dodge's  somewhat  ragged 
profile  held  against  the  sky.  "  You  dare  to  refuse  me  ?  "  she 
gasped.  Her  hazel  eyes  grew  inky ;  they  seemed  to  shoot  off 
sparkles  of  jet. 


200  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

tl  I  am  at  your  service  for  everything  else,"  he  said  steadily. 

No  other  word  was  spoken  until  they  reached  the  foot  of 
Kobinata  Hill,  where  the  betto,  springing  lightly  to  earth,  pre- 
ceded the  galloping  horses  up  the  slope. 

"You  know,"  said  Dodge,  slowly,  "this  may  mean  to  me 
giving  up  every  hope  of  happiness.  And  it 's  such  a  nasty 
little  cause,  — like  having  one's  eye  put  out  by  a  spitball." 

"Yet  you  prefer  it  to  retracting  one  rude,  silly  thought !  " 

"  For  God's  sake  ! "  cried  the  badgered  youth,  "  how  can  a 
man  retract  what  he  still  thinks  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  lie,  and 
say  I  don't  think  a  thing  when  I  do  think  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  strange  glint  in  her  face. 
"  Lie !  Say  that  you  do  not  think  it.  I  shall  be  satisfied 
with  that." 

"  I  '11  be  damned  if  I  do  !  "  said  Dodge.  "  I  '11  lie  to  please 
myself,  but  I  won't  lie  at  the  bidding  of  another,  —  not  even 
you  !  Shall  I  stop  the  carriage  and  get  out  ?  " 

Gwendolen,  with  a  little  choking  sound  in  her  throat,  turned 
away.  Her  gesture  seemed  an  assent.  Miserably  the  young 
man  realized  that  he  was  bound  by  Mr.  Todd  to  remain  with 
her,  and  overhear  the  conversation  that  might  ensue.  In  a 
moment  more  he  helped  her  from  the  carriage  in  silence, 
allowing  her  to  precede  him  to  the  Onda  gate,  and  up  the 
garden  stones  to  the  door. 

Old  Suzume  answered  the  knock.  She  parted  the  entrance 
shoji  very  craftily,  one  bent  eye  to  the  crack.  Her  left  cheek 
could  not  have  been  two  inches  from  the  floor.  This  gave  an 
uncanny  look,  as  if  a  severed  head,  or  one  of  those  long 
gourd-necked  ghosts  of  Japanese  mountains,  had  appeared  to 
receive  them. 

Gwendolen  said,  "Oh!"  and  retreated.  Dodge  stepped  for- 
ward boldly,  and  put  one  gloved  hand  into  the  crack.  The  old 
dame  shivered  at  this,  and  seemed  to  cower  for  a  spring.  A 
swift,  soft  rush  of  feet  came  through  the  house,  and  Yuki, 
flinging  both  doors  wide,  sent  a  crooked  smile  toward  them. 

"Come  quickly,"  she  panted;  "I  pray  you  wait  not  to 
remove  the  shoes.  My  father  is  absent.  I  have  prayed  for 
Gwendolen ;  there  is  great  thing  to  be  said." 

Dodge  shut  his  teeth  together.     He  was  to  be  needed. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       201 

Without  a  look  for  him,  Gwendolen,  obeying  Yuki's  injunc- 
tion as  to  shoes,  sprang  up  the  one  stone  doorstep  and  fol- 
lowed Yuki  along  a  dim  corridor.  Dodge,  more  deliberately, 
motioned  Suzume  to  remove  his  shoes,  standing  first  on  one 
foot,  then  on  the  other,  and  balancing  himself  by  the  aid  of  a 
shoji  frame.  The  untying  of  shoestrings  was  a  difficult  task 
for  excited  old  fingers.  Her  beady  eyes  darted  incessantly 
back  into  the  house. 

"  No  harm  can  be  done.  I  am  from  the  American  Legation, 
and  was  sent  to  accompany  Miss  Todd,"  said  he,  in  Japanese, 
pitying  the  old  dame's  nervousness. 

"  Hai !  hai !  Sayo  de  gozaimasuka  ?  "  mumbled  she,  greatly 
relieved.  She  loved  and  was  proud  of  Yuki ;  she  adored  her 
mistress ;  but  there  was  a  single  voice  in  that  house,  and  it 
belonged  to  Tetsujo. 

Dodge  went  alone  into  the  house,  guiding  himself  by  the 
voices.  They  had  reached  the  guest-room.  All  fusuma  and 
shoji  had  been  closed.  "Without  knocking  Dodge  pushed  aside 
a  silver  panel  painted  with  birds.  At  the  same  moment  Iriya 
entered  by  the  opposite  wall  of  the  room,  a  mere  white  ghost 
of  propriety. 

Yuki,  almost  in  Gwendolen's  arms,  was  pouring  out  rapid, 
disjointed,  incorrect  phrases  of  English,  —  sometimes  with  a 
whole  sentence  in  her  own  tongue,  —  so  that  the  listener  could 
catch  the  meaning  only  in  fragments. 

Dodge,  after  a  bow  to  Mrs.  Onda,  walked  straight  to  Yuki, 
took  a  seat  near  her,  and  by  his  quiet  eyes  compelled  her  atten- 
tion. He  began  to  speak  in  slow,  deliberate  Japanese  that  the 
mother  also  might  understand.  "Whether  interpreting  through 
his  careful  pronouncing  or  divining  from  his  emphasis,  Gwen- 
dolen, too,  seemed  to  follow  him. 

"  In  allowing  Miss  Todd  to  call  this  morning,  Miss  Onda, 
her  father,  Minister  Todd,  has  commissioned  me  to  say  to 
you  —  " 

"  Don't  you  believe  him  !  "  cried  Gwendolen,  flinging  herself 
bodily  before  Yuki.  She  turned  flashing  eyes  upon  the 
speaker.  "  The  poor  child  has  enough  to  bear  already,  with- 
out your  giving  more!  " 

"  I  must  deliver  your  father's  message,  Miss  Todd.    And  I 


202  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GOf)S 

shall  do  so,  though  I  have  to  wait  until  Miss  Onda's  father 
comes." 

At  sound  of  that  dreaded  name  Gwendolen's  courage  for  the 
moment  fell.  Dodge  quietly  resumed,  in  Japanese,  "  While 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Todd  have  only  the  most  affectionate  feelings 
toward  Miss  Onda,  they  beg  to  recall  the  very  delicate  inter- 
national questions  raised  by  the  present  war.  America  being 
neutral  —  er  —  Miss  Todd's  official  position  —  " 

"  Miss  Todd's  official  fiddlestrings,"  interrupted  Gwendolen. 
"  There,  Yuki !  He  's  through !  That 's  all  he  had  to  say  ! 
Now  can't  we  go  into  your  bedroom,  or  out  to  the  garden,  and 
finish  our  conversation  in  peace?  " 

"  Gwendolen,  dear,  —  no  ! "  said  Yuki,  pressing  her  hand. 
"  It  is  most  terribly  serious  time  with  all.  I  am  glad  to  have 
Mr.  Dodge  here  ;  he  will  not  prevent  any  help,  —  he  will  give 
it.  I  must  now  relate,  Mr.  Dodge,"  she  went  on,  very  brave 
and  self-possessed,  "  the  new,  strange  circumstance — "  Sud- 
denly she  flushed  the  color  of  a  peony,  dropped  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  murmured  to  Gwendolen,  "  Yes,  you  must  say 
it,  Gwendolen.  It  is  such  immodest  things  for  Japanese 
girl  to  speak !  You  tell  him." 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  understand  very  clearly  myself,"  said 
Gwendolen,  with  a  puzzled  frown. 

Iriya  stared  on,  white,  motionless,  unsmiling. 

"As  far  as  I  can  make  the  trouble  out,"  said  Gwendolen, 
flinging  her  words  to  Dodge,  rather  than  speaking  them, 
"  Prince  Hagane  backs  Ynki's  father,  iitterly,  against  Pierre. 
They  won't  consider  the  possibility  of  her  ever  marrying  him. 
Worst  of  all,  while  her  heart  is  sore  with  this,  they  are 
trying  to  force  her  into  marriage  with  some  rich  old  man,  — 
some  influential  relative,  I  believe,  of  Hagane.  Is  n't  he  a 
relative,  Yuki  ?  " 

"  No-o !  He  is  not  the  relative,"  said  Yuki,  from  behind 
sheltering  hands.  "  It  is  himself  —  he  —  the  Prince  Hagane !  " 

"  Prince  Hagan&  !  Prince  Sanetomo  Hagane  ?  "  cried  Dodge, 
in  incredulous  surprise.  "  Good  Lord  !  Why,  he 's  the  biggest 
man  in  this  kingdom,  next  to  the  Emperor  and  the  Crown 
Prince!  Has  —  has  he  made  your  father  a  formal  offer  of 
marriage  for  you,  Miss  Yuki?" 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  203 

Yuki  nodded  «  Yes."   . 

"  The  old  sport !  So  this  has  been  his  game,"  muttered 
Gwendolen  to  herself. 

At  the  full  name  of  Hagane,  a  wintry  smile  of  pride  had 
flashed  into  Iriya's  set  face. 

"Whe-e-ew!"  whistled  Dodge,  again.  He  could  not  get 
this  wonder  fixed.  "  I  see  now  why  your  family  is  wound  up 
like  a  spring,  Miss  Yuki.  It 's  a  superlative  opportunity 
for  you  !  " 

Gwendolen  sat  so  still  that  first  Yuki,  then  Dodge,  stared 
at  her. 

"  What  is  it  you  think  I  can  do  with  Pierre  for  you,  Yuki  ?  " 
asked  the  American  girl,  in  a  voice  as  strange  as  her  silence. 

Yuki  was  slightly  disconcerted.  "  Only,  dear,  that  I  want 
to  be  sure  the  truth  is  known  to  Mr.  Le  Beau.  I  would  have 
more  peace  to  feel  that  he  knows  correctly.  And  he  then  will 
understand  why  I  cannot  write  to  him,  or  see  him,  or  answer 
when  he  sings  the  song  of  Carmen  I  told  you." 

"  You  intend  then  to  hold  to  Pierre,  and  throw  over  Prince 
Hagane,  no  matter  what  the  consequences  ?  "  asked  Gwendolen, 
curiously. 

"  I  know  not  about  '  throw  over.'  It  sounds  a  disrespectful 
word  to  so  great  a  man.  But  I  am  bound  to  Pierre,  as  you 
know,  by  the  promise."  Again  her  face  flushed. 

"  I  '11  wager  your  father  does  not  consider  that  promise 
binding,"  put  in  Dodge. 

"  No,  not  my  father,  and  not  Prince  Hagane,"  said  Yuki, 
simply.  "  But  then,  you  know,  they  is  not  me  ! " 

"I  —  er  —  presume  not,"  answered  he,  absently. 

Now  that  the  conversation  was  all  in  English,  the  pale 
effigy  of  Iriya  did  not  even  turn  its  eyes  from  one  face  to  the 
other.  It  was  her  duty  to  her  husband  to  be  present,  and  so 
she  remained. 

"  Miss  Yuki !  "  flashed  out  the  young  man,  with  new  anima- 
tion. "  You  have  n't  asked  my  advice,  and  you  may  not  desire 
it.  But  let  me  say  one  thing.  It  seems  awful  to  me,  —  even 
though  I  am  an  American,  and  can't  know  all  the  fine  points  of 
Japanese  feeling,  —  to  throw  over  a  chance  like  this  for  a 
Frenchman !  Is  he  worth  it  —  ?  " 


204  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

"  How  would  it  seem  if  you  were  in  the  place  of  Pierre  Le 
Beau  ?  "  cried  Gwendolen,  angrily,  before  Yuki  could  speak. 

The  Japanese  girl  evidently  was  glad  of  the  question. 
"  Yes,  yes  !  "  she  repeated.  "  How  would  you  be  ?  "  She 
hung  on  his  answer. 

The  young  man's  eyes  were  cool,  his  voice  crisp  and  con- 
vincing, as  he  said  slowly,  "In  the  first  place,  I  could  not 
imagine  myself  having  forced  any  binding  promise  from  a  girl 
so  far  from  her  home  and  friends.  I  might  have  let  her  see 
I  loved  her,  —  a  fellow  can't  always  help  that ;  but  I  would  n't 
have  tied  her  up  in  her  own  words  until  she  had  the  backing 
of  her  own  people." 

Gwendolen  was  all  ready  with  a  scornful  word,  but  Yuki's 
small  ice-cold  hand  upon  her  wrist  restrained  her.  Yuki  was 
leaning  toward  the  young  man,  an  eager  gleam  in  her  eyes. 
"  Mr.  Dodge,  what  was  it  that  you  meant  by  the  su-per-lative 
opportunity  —  ?  " 

"  I  seem  to  be  turned  into  a  sort  of  Information  Bureau  on 
other  people's  morals  to-day,"  smiled  Dodge.  "But  this  is 
an  easy  one.  I  meant  just  what  a  Japanese  would  mean,  —  a 
rousing  good  chance  for  patriotism.  Isn't  that  what  you 
thought  ?  " 

Yuki's  face  fell,  and  her  lips  trembled.  "  Yes,"  she  whis- 
pered like  a  child.  "  That  is  Japanese  thought." 

"How  lofty  and  superior!  A  Confucius  come  to  judg- 
ment !  "  cried  Gwendolen  to  Dodge.  His  calmness,  his  power 
of  thought,  so  soon  after  their  fatal  quarrel,  irritated  her.  It 
almost  seemed  to  make  light  of  her  influence.  Since  she 
could  not  command,  she  wished  at  least  to  sting  him. 

"And,  Yuki,  now  /  have  advice  to  give.  If  I  loved 
Pierre  as  you  do,  —  if  I  loved  any  man  so  that  the  thought  of 
another  turned  me  sick,  —  I  'd  be  faithful  to  him  until  those 
old  moat  pines  turned  somersaults  and  came  up  again  as  grass  ! 
I  'd  marry  him,  though  Jimmu  Tenno,  with  a  new  sword  and 
mirror,  came  down  to  prevent !  You  say  that  Pierre  goes  by 
here  whistling.  What 's  to  hinder  you  from  going  to  him  ? 
The  women  here  would  not  prevent.  Some  time  like  this, 
when  your  father  is  absent, — mind,  I  don't  advise  the  doing 
it,  —  only,  I  say,  if  you  were  tortured  and  driven  to  despair — ' 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       205 

Yuki  stopped  her  by  a  gesture.  "  Even  that  terrible  thought 
has  been  thinked  by  me.  But  even  if  I  wished  it,  —  go  to 
those  garden  shoji,  Gwendolen.  Open  with  some  noisiness, 
and  see  what  occurs." 

Gwendolen  obeyed  with  vehemence,  placing  one  still  booted 
foot  defiantly  upon  the  veranda.  Instantly,  as  if  by  magic, 
the  two  blue-clad  gardeners  crouched,  in  threatening  attitudes, 
on  the  gravelled  path  below.  At  sight  of  the  tall  blonde  girl 
the  men  literally  froze  into  grizzled  gargoyles.  Gwendolen 
drew  back  with  a  cry,  then  instantly  realized  the  situation. 

"Vile  spies!  "  she  exclaimed.  " Hired  assassins !  If  there 
were  a  man  here,  he  would  drown  you  in  that  pond !  Go 
away !  Shoo !  "  she  shrieked  at  the  astonished  natives. 
Without  a  word,  they  exchanged  slow,  wondering  glances, 
nodded,  and  withdrew. 

Gwendolen  slammed  the  shoji  together  again.  "No  wonder 
you  are  pale,  Yuki,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling  with  excite- 
ment and  indignation ;  "  I  never  dreamed  anybody  would 
dare  a  thing  like  this ! " 

"  But  how  intensely  romantic ! "  remarked  Dodge,  in  a  low- 
voice,  to  the  ceiling. 

Yuki  did  not  try  to  answer.  Her  head  drooped  lower,  lower, 
with  each  instant.  Tears  were  coming  in  uncontrollable 
throbs  to  eyes  that  had,  through  deeper  troubles,  remained 
dry.  This  humiliation  before  friends  of  another  world  touched 
some  secret  personal  spring  of  pride.  She  lifted  first  one  gray 
sleeve,  then  the  other,  apologizing  in  low,  broken  sentences 
for  the  vulgarity  of  thus  displaying  grief.  Gwendolen  threw 
herself  to  the  floor  beside  her  friend,  her  own  bright  eyes  be- 
coming springs  of  sorrow.  Dodge  rose,  standing  helplessly 
near,  and  wishing  himself  somewhere  else. 

Upon  this  lachrymosal  tableau  entered  Tetsujo  Onda,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  incredulous,  in  the  parted  fusuma,  like 
some  image  of  Ojin  Tenno,  the  God  of  War,  a  scowl  carved 
deep  in  his  brow.  Gwendolen  first  caught  sight  of  him. 
Rising  to  her  knees,  she  tried  by  looks  to  wither  him  away. 
She  might  as  well  have  blown  seed-arrows  from  an  iron  dan- 
delion. Dodge,  the  diplomat,  rushed  gallantly  to  the  fore. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Onda,"  he  began,  bowing  spasmodic- 


206  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

ally.  "Fine  morning,  isn't  it?  We  were  just  making  a 
little  call  in  the  neighborhood,  and  ran  in  to  see  your  wife  and 
daughter,  —  foreign  custom,  you  know  !  —  and  the  young 
ladies  have  to  talk  and  weep  sometimes  over  their  happy,  van- 
ished school  days ! " 

"  Ugh !  "  grunted  the  unwilling  host,  scantily  returning  one 
of  the  many  bows. 

"Just  so  —  just  so,"  said  Dodge,  with  increasing  cordiality. 
"  And  now  we  must  bid  you  good  day.  Miss  Todd  and  I  were 
just  on  the  point  of  starting.  This  is  the  daughter  —  the  only 
child,  you  know  —  of  the  new  American  minister  to  Japan." 

"  I  know  of  her,  and  you,  and  the  Frenchman,  and  much 
else,"  said  Onda,  with  a  disconcerting  warp  of  the  lips  meant 
for  a  smile. 

"  Go  !  If  you  love  me,  make  quick  goings,"  whispered  Yuki, 
with  her  arms  around  Gwendolen's  neck. 

"With  nothing  settled  —  no  appointment  for  you  and  —  " 

"It  is  hopeless,"  put  in  Yuki,  instantly.  "Mention  no 
name!  They  will  guard  me  now  much  closer.  Oh,  it's  my 
father's  doing,  not  Hagane  ;  he  is  noble !  " 

"  Then  I  will  see  —  the  other,  and  tell  him  clearly.  How 
shall  I  let  you  know  ?  " 

"  A  telegram.  No  one  will  keep  that  from  me.  Send  it  in 
English,  —  in  hard  words,  you  understand !  And,  oh,  Gwen- 
dolen, send  it  to-morrow  before  twilight.  Pray  for  me  !  " 

Ignoring  Tetsujo's  increasing  rage,  Yuki  followed  her  friend 
to  the  very  door,  pausing  for  a  last  embrace.  "You  are  my 
good  friend  —  my  golden  friend !  Nothing  between  our  hearts 
can  ever  come.  Ne  ?  " 

"  Never  !  Never !  Ne  ?  "  answered  Gwendolen,  trying  to 
smile. 

Yuki  turned,  and  went  back  as  a  prisoner  to  an  inky  cell. 

Out  on  the  street,  at  the  carriage-step,  two  pleasing  Ameri- 
cans paused,  and  eyed  each  other  much  with  the  expression  of 
a  pair  of  young  game-cocks. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  tan-colored  fowl,  superbly,  "  why  do  you 
hesitate  ?  Is  it  to  beg  paw-don  of  some  one  ?  " 

"  I  beg  paw-don  ?  "  echoed  the  other,  in  mild  surprise.    "  No, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       207 

certainly  not !  How  could  you  fawncy  such  a  thing  ?  Do 
you?" 

Gwendolen,  with  a  muffled  exclamation,  sprang  unaided  into 
the  carriage.  "  Go  on  !  Hurry  up !  American  Legation  — 
Koshikwan,  1  mean!  This  beastly  lingo — "  she  cried  to  the 
driver,  and  so  far  forgot  herself  as  to  prod  him  in  the  American 
flags. 

The  startled  servant  looked  down  and  over  her,  to  Dodge, 
for  confirmation* 

" It 's  all  right,  betto  ! "  said  Dodge,  airily,  in  Japanese.  "I 
prefer  walking  back.  Take  the  august  young  lady  home  by  a 
long,  long  road !  She  has  become  honorably  overheated !  " 

Gwendolen  gave  the  speaker  one  helpless  glare,  threw  her- 
self back  in  the  seat,  and  was  gone. 

Dodge  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  looking  after  the 
carriage  until  bamboo  hedges  closed  in  upon  it,  and  the  noises 
of  its  rattling  wheels  faded  into  the  myriad  sounds  of  the  city 
below  him. 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

THE  month  of  March  was  at  hand.  Tempestuous  winds 
howled  and  whirled  in  the  pine  and  camphor  trees,  in  the 
flame-like,  springing  bamboo  groves,  and  under  temple  eaves. 
The  air  was  full  of  petals  and  scraps  of  green.  Sometimes  a 
tiny  flake  of  flint  stung  the  face,  and  between  the  teeth  an 
uncomfortable  grit  blew  in.  Angry  gray  clouds  piled  high 
from  the  north,  westward  from  the  Atlantic,  eastward  from 
that  "  rough  and  black  "  water  we  call  the  Yellow  Sea.  The 
very  firmament  was  in  torment.  The  wind,  combated  at  once 
by  many  currents,  tore  at  times  great  eddies  in  the  gray,  let- 
ting the  sun  down  in  avalanches  of  light.  Yuki  saw  the 
shadow  and  the  sun  pass,  like  fleeting  ghosts,  across  the  gar- 
den; felt  the  chill  and  warmth  alternating  in  their  wakes. 
The  wind  tossed  cruelly  the  branches  of  cherry-trees,  where 
sharp-pointed  buds  in  clusters,  just  showing  a  first  hint 
of  pink,  were  set.  The  plum-tree  was  bare  but  for  a  few 
timid  green  leaves.  Now  and  then  a  twig  or  branch  snapped, 
and  fell  sharply  on  the  gravelled  pathway,  where  instantly 
one  of  the  blue-robed  gardeners  advanced  to  pick  it  up. 

In  the  cowed  house  Yuki  moved  like  some  waxen  automa- 
ton, living  only  in  the  one  sense  of  hearing.  Every  cry  from 
the  street,  every  wind-jangle  of  the  gate-bell,  sent  her  currents 
of  hope  and  apprehension.  Tetsujo  grimly  ignored  the  in- 
tensifying strain,  but  Iriya's  pitying  eyes  turned  more  often 
to  her  child.  The  servants  kept  to  themselves,  whispering 
and  exchanging  glances. 

Now  the  bamboo  hedges  which  shut  out  the  main  street-line 
bent  over,  at  times  almost  to  the  earth,  writhing,  stretching, 
and  squeaking  at  the  confining  strips  of  wood  that  sought  to 
hold  them  erect.  Besides  the  hedge-bamboo,  "sa-sa,"  the 
fence  had  an  inner  line  of  cruel  orange-thorn. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  209 

Yuki  had  watched  the  elemental  conflict  greedily.  Sud- 
denly a  snatch  of  Carmen's  love-song  rode  the  wind.  It  was 
the  sound  she  had  expected.  Her  little  hands  sought  each 
other  within  the  silken  sleeves,  and  clutched  so  fiercely  that 
a  nail  snapped.  Again  came  the  song,  nearer  this  time,  just 
without  the  gate.  It  was  a  strange,  incongruous  note,  as  if 
an  English  lark  should  rise  from  the  bruised  and  battered 
hedge.  Yuki  heard  a  movement  in  the  next  room,  where  Tet- 
sujo  sat  among  his  books.  Perhaps  it  was  coincidence  that 
Suzume  brought  her,  exactly  at  this  moment,  a  fresh  tray  of 
tea.  The  blue  gardeners  strolled  together  into  full  view,  and 
stooped,  as  if  to  discuss  the  condition  of  a  botan  bush,  now 
beaten  down. 

Square  upon  the  back  of  one  of  them  fell  a  queer  winged 
missive,  a  scrap  of  foreign  paper  weighted  with  a  pebble. 
Yuki  saw  it  clearly.  Old  Suzume,  with  a  stifled  gasp, 
crouched  in  her  place.  The  girl  poured  tea  for  herself,  and 
drank  it  calmly.  The  pelted  gardener,  without  so  much 
as  a  look  around,  lifted  the  scrap  of  paper  as  if  it  had 
been  a  broken  bud,  and  slipped  it,  weight  and  all,  into  his 
sleeve. 

The  Carmen  song  stopped.  Suzume,  with  a  last  sly  glance, 
slipped  from  the  room.  Yuki  pressed  one  hand  to  her  throat. 
It  would  be  no  harm  to  sing  the  answering  strain.  What 
though  her  father  and  her  jailers  heard  ?  If  once  the  song 
sped  forth,  not  even  their  craft  could  recall  it.  Pierre  would 
understand,  then,  that  she  heard,  but  was  a  prisoner  ;  that  even 
the  written  note  he  threw  could  not  be  received.  Once,  twice, 
the  white  lips  parted,  and  the  slender  throat  stiffened  for  an 
answering  phrase ;  but  no  sound  came.  It  was  as  in  night- 
mare dreams,  where  one  seeks  to  cry  aloud,  and  finds  that  the 
voice  is  gone. 

Now  her  father  was  on  his  feet.  She  heard  his  long,  swing- 
ing stride  go  through  the  house.  At  the  door  she  heard 
him  kick  his  wooden  clogs,  and  give  a  gruff  order  to  0  Maru 
San.  Then  the  harsh  scraping  feet  passed  along  the  garden 
stones,  the  little  bell  clamored,  and  the  gate-panel  closed  with 
a  bang. 

"  Ma-a-a ! "  she  heard  old  Suzume  cry.     "  This  is  not  the 

14 


210  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

master  I  have  known  for  fifty  years.  He  must  be  bewitched 
by  a  fox."  Maru  gave  a  little  giggle,  which  the  elder  woman 
quickly  suppressed.  Iriya,  in  the  guest-room,  moved  like  a 
cat.  Yuki  knew  that  all  were  against  her,  —  spies,  enemies. 
Passages  from  the  Psalms  of  her  Christian  Bible  came  to  the 
girl.  "  They  compass  me  round  about  on  every  side.  I  am 
set  in  the  midst  of  snares."  She  ran  out  into  the  garden,  now, 
listening  for  sounds  of  violence  from  the  street.  Nothing 
came  but  the  wailing  of  wind.  Tetsujo  returned  as  abruptly 
as  he  had  gone.  Yuki,  steeling  herself  against  the  look  of 
aversion  certain  to  be  met,  went  before  him,  not  questioning, 
but  searching  his  face  with  haggard  eyfcs  for  some  possible 
sign  of  at  least  a  will-conflict  between  him  and  Pierre.  She 
fancied,  in  her  abnormal  state  of  mind,  that  something  of 
Pierre's  thought  must  cling  to  his  enemy,  and  so  be  trans- 
mitted to  her.  But  Tetsujo's  face  was  as  blank  and  expres- 
sionless as  the  glazed  side  of  one  of  Suzume's  tea-jars  on  the 
kitchen  shelf. 

Unable  to  breathe  longer  that  overweighted  air,  Yuki  caught 
up  a  gray  shawl  from  her  room,  and  went  boldly  out  again  into 
the  garden.  The  rain  had  ceased  entirely.  The  wind,  though 
fiercer  when  it  came,  came  at  increasing  intervals.  Through 
one  of  these  temporary  lulls  Yuki  reached  the  bleak  little 
pond.  The  encircling  rocks  appeared  older,  grimmer,  and  more 
shrunken.  A  few  of  the  bordering  plants  had  been  twisted 
and  split.  One  was  overturned,  its  ochre  roots  clutching  at 
the  unfriendly  air,  the  evergreen  branches  plunged  deep  into 
quivering  gray  water. 

As  if  in  wonder  that  so  frail  a  creature  as  a  girl  should  dare 
its  strength,  the  storm,  crouching  and  growling  for  a  last 
effort,  hurled  the  full  bulk  of  its  viewless  majesty  upon  her. 
She  was  beaten  bodily  upon  the  rocks.  But  for  the  protecting 
shawl  she  might  have  been  blinded,  or  the  long  black  hair  torn 
from  her.  For  an  instant  breath  stopped ;  but  in  the  wake  of 
it  came  exultation.  Lifting  her  head,  she  smiled  a  challenge 
to  the  storm  to  snatch  her  faint  soul  from  her  lips,  and  bear  it 
far,  like  a  petal,  on  that  streaming  tide  of  heaven.  The  blue- 
robed  gardeners,  crouching  in  the  shelter  of  a  rock,  stared  at 
her  in  wonder.  Iriya's  face  came  for  one  white  instant  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       211 

the  veranda  and  vanished.  Yuki  could  hear  the  very  timbers 
groan.  The  bands  of  dead  bamboo,  lashed  in  horizontal  strips 
to  the  living  hedge,  squeaked  and  buckled,  and  squeaked  again, 
in  absurd  imitation  of  animate  torture.  In  the  pond  the 
pear-shaped  water  was  smitten  into  one  gelatinous,  cowering 
mass. 

Suddenly  the  wind  went.  Sounds  all  about  her  of  stress 
and  terror  changed  into  whimpers,  whispers,  moans,  and  small 
complainings.  The  pond-water  sprang  up  in  small  simulta- 
neous waves  which  all  pawed  and  clamored  at  the  rocks  for 
explanation.  Yuki  stood  upright,  realizing  dully  her  slow  re- 
turn to  sanity  and  poise.  The  storm  had  swept  her,  for  a 
moment,  out  of  her  own  reach.  In  the  recoil  she  grudged  her 
soul  its  habitation. 

Now  the  nonchalant  gardeners  crossed  her  path,  making 
respectful  salutation  in  transit.  Her  eyes  followed  them 
absently,  but  all  at  once  became  glued  to  a  small  sagging 
point  in  the  left  sleeve  of  the  shorter  man.  As  they  dis- 
appeared around  the  corner  plum-tree,  she  sank  to  one  of  the 
rocks.  As  if  she  had  not  enough  to  bear  already,  without  the 
torture  of  speculation  on  the  purport  of  those  written  words 
she  was  never  to  see !  Her  hands  fell  limp,  her  head  sank. 
The  gray  shawl  crept  by  unnoticed  inches  to  the  earth. 

Wearily  the  girl  opened  the  portals  of  her  thought  to  the 
same  hopeless  throng  of  shrouded  visitors,  —  conjectures,  all 
of  them,  moving  solemnly  one  behind  the  other,  —  creatures 
without  a  face,  —  half-animate  forms  with  no  clear  direction 
or  purpose  except  to  move  on.  What  was  to  be  the  end  of  it 
all,  for  her  ?  There  was  no  answer  to  that.  Tetsujo  ap- 
parently would  neither  disown  her  nor  relinquish  his  deter- 
mination to  marry  her  quickly.  It  did  not  seem  much  to  ask, 
only  to  be  let  alone ;  and  yet  in  some  strange  way  this  had 
come  to  be  a  priceless,  impossible  boon.  Pierre's  note  she 
would  never  see.  She  had  not  been  able  to  answer  his  Carmen 
song.  One  way  alone  remained  open  for  communication,  and 
that  was  Gwendolen's  telegram.  She  had  faith  that,  in  some 
way,  this  would  get  to  her.  At  the  cry,  "  Dempo  ! "  she  had 
determined  to  rush  out  in  person  and  demand  it.  Even  though 
this  succeeded,  she  could  not  fix  great  hope  on  its  content. 


212  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Surely  no  thought  would  come  to  Pierre  but  the  old  loving, 
desperate,  appealing  cry,  "  Be  true,  be  faithful,  and  we  may 
yet  find  happiness  !  "  How  the  foreigners  harped  upon  that 
thought  of  personal  happiness  !  It  was,  to  most  of  them,  the 
one  definite  aim  in  life.  To  Pierre  —  dear,  beautiful,  joyous 
Pierre  —  it  was  life  itself.  A  Japanese  is  taught  from  child- 
hood to  look  upon  happiness  as  the  casual  flower  of  his  ever- 
green garden,  —  the  lotos  on  a  still  pond  of  duty.  It  is  never 
an  incentive,  never  in  itself  a  conscious  reward.  She  had  tried 
to  teach  Pierre  this,  but  he  had  laughed  at  her,  and  said  it  was 
because  Japanese  did  not  know  how  to  love. 

Yuki  fixed  thoughtful  eyes  on  a  small  shrivelled  tuft  of  fern 
near  her  feet.  Its  once  graceful  fronds  were  cruelly  bruised 
and  twisted,  first  by  frost,  and  now  by  this  pitiless  storm.  "I 
know  how  it  feels,"  thought  Yuki.  "  My  father's  harshness, 
my  mother's  suffering,  and  my  own  desire  to  be  faithful  have 
so  wrung  and  bruised  my  heart."  After  a  pause  she  said 
aloud,  "I  wonder  if  it  thinks  itself  really  dead?"  She 
stooped  down  slowly,  and  parted  the  sodden,  clinging  scraps 
of  brown.  In  the  heart  a  nest  of  tiny  leaflets  curled,  like 
baby  glow-worms,  close  wrapped  in  silky  filaments  of  down. 
They  seemed  to  shrink  from  her  icy  fingers,  as  if  to  say : 
"  Let  us  be  still !  We  are  only  asleep.  Those  tattered  brown 
bed-curtains  keep  us  warm." 

Yuki  stood  upright  again.  The  expression  of  her  face  was 
altered,  and  her  eyes  now  slowly  softened  into  tears.  "  My 
poor  Pierre  !  my  poor  Pierre !  "  she  whispered.  "  If  he  were 
just  a  little  more  noble,  if  he  were  a  Japanese,  he  would  say, 
'It  is  best  that  you  should  obey  your  parents,  and  serve  at 
once  your  native  land.'  But  he  will  not  say  it!  And  I  have 
promised !  "  She  leaned  over  for  another  moment,  heaping 
the  dead  fern-leaves  above  their  sleeping  youth,  then  walked 
slowly  to  the  house. 

One  star,  at  least,  shone  clear  in  her  troubled  firmament. 
If  Pierre  should,  through  Gwendolen's  intercession,  or  through 
some  awakened  vision  of  his  own,  telegraph,  urging  her  to  be 
true  to  her  better  self,  no  matter  what  the  grief  to  her  plighted 
love,  — then  she  could  wish  to  marry  that  great  man,  Hagane, 
to  pay  her  filial  debt  to  the  now  stricken  parents,  to  show 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       213 

her  love  and  loyalty  to  Nippon  !  Of  course  there  was  no 
hope  that  Pierre  would  do  this ;  but  if  he  should,  —  if  he 
should  —  I 

The  wind  came  again  and  again,  but  never  so  terribly  as  for 
that  one  moment  by  the  pond.  Ordinary  sounds  of  domestic 
life  arose  from  the  Onda  household,  and  from  the  neighbors 
around  it.  Cocks  began  to  crow,  as  if  the  storm-clearing  was 
of  their  own  contrivance  ;  sparrows  chirped.  The  white  tail- 
less cat  picked  a  dainty  way  along  the  outer  edges  of  bamboo 
gutters.  Cries  of  belated  peddlers  came  cheerily  from  the 
street. 

"  To-o-fu-u  !  To-o-fu-u-u  !  "  called  the  bean-curd  man, 
with  his  characteristic  upward  inflection  on  the  last  syllable. 

"  Chi-chee  !  Ichiban  chi-chee  ! "  cried  the  milk-peddler,  trot- 
ting between  the  shafts  of  his  small,  closed  cart.  He  was 
very  proud  of  this  cart,  and  because  of  it  considered  himself 
the  most  aristocratic  kitchen-visitor  on  the  hill.  Its  color  was 
a  loud,  blasphemous  blue.  On  the  sides,  in  letters  of  yellow 
edged  with  black,  were  two  inscriptions.  The  first,  in  Chinese 
ideographs,  announced  prompt  delivery  of  the  richest  and 
freshest  milk.  Below  it,  in  English,  glowed  the  startling 
line,  "Fresh  Ox-Milk  Every  Hours."  Suzume  had  long  been 
a  patron  of  the  blue  cart.  A  little  thin-necked  milk-bottle 
dangled,  now  empty,  by  a  bit  of  white  cord,  just  without  the 
gate.  This  the  milk-boy  removed,  substituting  one  that  was 
full,  though  equally  stopperless. 

The  soba-ya  (buckwheat-man),  lurching  and  skimming  along 
under  a  bent  kiri-wood  pole  that  bore  at  one  end  a  chest  of 
drawers  and  at  the  other  a  steaming  furnace  with  bowls, 
copper-pots,  and  a  ladle,  naturally  had  little  voice  left  for 
vociferous  proclamation.  His  coming  was  indicated,  at  long 
range,  by  the  click  and  shiver  of  copper  drawer-handles  beat- 
ing in  unison  against  half-filled  boxes.  According  to  the 
quantity  of  dry  buckwheat  in  each  drawer,  the  handle  uttered 
a  different  note.  Needless  to  say,  this  burdened  hawker  loit- 
ered long  at  each  gate ;  but  at  the  Onda  entrance  he  stayed 
longest  of  all.  It  was  Maru's  happy  privilege  to  bargain  with 
these  several  venders.  Her  heart  found  an  answering  thump 
and  shiver  as  the  soba-ya  drew  near. 


214  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"Honorably  steamed,  or  augustly  raw,  0  maiden  of  the 
lovely  countenance?  "  asked  he  of  the  blushing  one. 

"Augustly  boiled,  to-day,  kind  sir,  —  if  you  can  graciously 
condescend  to  bestow  the  amount  of  two  sens'  worth,"  rejoined 
Maru,  sucking  in  her  breath  with  ceremonious  emphasis  as  she 
presented  a  small  green  bowl. 

This  flirtation  was  already  becoming  talked  of  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. More  than  one  curious  uba-san"  (old  woman), 
relieved  by  age  from  personal  domestic  cares,  sought  peep- 
holes and  crannies  in  neighboring  hedges  when  the  smell  of 
buckwheat  warmed  the  air. 

The  buckwheat  man  bestowed  an  encouraging  smile.  "The 
noblest  of  my  customers  invariably  prefer  my  worthless  viands 
honorably  boiled,"  said  he,  with  a  side  glance  from  under  the 
brim  of  his  malachite  Derby. 

"  As  for  that,  you,  by  pi'eparing  so  deliciously  the  delectable 
food,  make  buying  necessary,"  simpered  the  purchaser  with  a 
rosier  glow. 

A  slim  and  seemingly  boneless  cur,  who  also  had  nostrils 
for  hot  buckwheat,  scraped  a  stealthy  way  along  the  hedge 
toward  them.  He  felt  that  the  flirtation  might  have  possi- 
bilities for  him. 

"Do-mo !  "  said  the  peddler,  with  deprecating  nods.  "The 
stuff  is  poor,  I  fear.  It  is  but  your  divine  condescension  and 
pitying  heart  that  make  you  encourage  me."  He  lifted  the 
copper  lid  of  his  cauldron,  and  began  ladling  out  a  goodly  por- 
tion of  the  slippery  ware. 

"Who  is  the  mad  young  foreigner  with  yellow  hair  who 
now  haunts  the  foot  of  this  hill  ?  "  asked  the  peddler,  during 
his  precarious  occupation. 

"Ma-a!"  cried  Maru  under  her  breath.  She  craned  her 
neck  to  look  furtively  up  and  down  the  street,  and  then  asked 
in  a  confidential  whisper,  "  Is  there  indeed  such  a  person  at 
the  foot  of  this  august  hill  ?  " 

"  I  speak  simple  truth.  Surely  you  know  of  him.  In  all 
the  roads  he  is  to  be  seen.  He  moves  so  quickly  the  children 
say  there  are  two  of  him.  They  cry  at  his  approach,  though 
he  flings  them  many  rin  and  sen,  and  hide  faces  in  their 
mothers'  sleeves." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       215 

"  Repeat  it  not  from  me,"  cautioned  Maru.  "  Aunt  Suzume 
would  surely  scorch  me  with  her  pipe,  should  she  hear  me 
gossiping.  But  he  is  a  grand  foreigner,  son  of  a  king,  who  is 
wild  with  love  to  marry  our  Miss  Yuki ;  but  she  repels  him, 
for  she  is  asked  in  marriage  by  a  much  greater  person,  of 
Japan,  —  a  very,  very  great  prince  !  "  Maru  swelled  her  fat 
chest  like  a  pigeon.  The  interest  in  her  auditor's  face  thrilled 
her.  She  opened  her  mouth  for  further  revelations,  when  a 
sneeze  from  the  kitchen  brought  her  caution.  "I  —  I  dare 
not  tell  his  name,"  she  added  weakly. 

"  You  are  honorably  to  be  commended  for  your  prudence," 
gravely  declared  the  soba-ya,  though  he  was  swallowing  hard 
this  lump  of  disappointment.  "  Prudence  is  an  excellent 
quality,  particularly  in  a  wife.  Is  it  true  —  er  —  ahem  !  —  is 
it  true,  small  round  one,  that  the  ancient  dame  who  presides 
over  the  kitchen  of  your  noble  household  is,  indeed,  your  one 
surviving  relative  ?  " 

"  Te-he-he  ! "  giggled  little  Maru  in  blissful  discomfort. 
"She  truly  is,  0  most  worthy  sir, —  but  why  should  you  wish 
to  know  ?  " 

"  Much  reason  is  existent,"  said  the  other,  with  such  mean- 
ing that  Maru,  after  an  enraptured  gasp,  let  the  entire  con- 
tents of  the  bowl  tilt,  and  then  fall  with  a  wet  thud  to  the 
earth.  The  white  cur,  having  well  calculated  his  chances, 
reaped  the  reward  of  intelligence  if  not  of  virtue,  and  went 
down  the  hill  with  a  yelp  of  joy. 

"  Kwannon  help  me ! "  cried  the  girl  at  this  catastrophe. 
"  For  this  a  great  beating  may  be  honorably  bestowed  upon 
me!" 

"  Nay,  maiden,  be  calm !  "  said  the  gallant  youth.  "  Free 
of  charge  will  I  restore  it.  Give  me  the  bowl!  "  Tremblingly 
she  did  so.  Their  fingers  met  beneath  the  sage-green  rim. 
Maru's  round  face  glowed  more  like  a  peony  than  ever. 

"  Maru !  Ma-roo  /  "  came  a  voice  from  within.  "  Is  the 
buckwheat-man  boiling  you,  that  so  long  you  remain  ?  Worth- 
less vagabond !  Let  him  leave  at  once  ! " 

"  It  is  Aunt  Suzume !  I  must  go  !  Again  to-morrow  you 
will  augustly  pause  at  our  broken-down  step,  will  you  not?" 

"  Though  in  the  night  I  should  make  divine  retirement,  yet 


216  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

to-morrow  at  this  hour  would  my  ghost  return  to  bring  your 
buckwheat !  "  protested  the  swain.  With  one  more  gasp  of 
ecstasy,  and  the  crossing  of  two  pairs  of  small  slanting  eyes, 
the  lovers  separated.  A  moment  later  the  peculiar  click  and 
clutter  of  the  metal  handles  came  back  through  dying  gusts  of 
wind. 

Tetsujo,  immediately  after  luncheon,  returned  to  his  book- 
room,  where  now  he  spent  all  his  waking  hours.  After  some 
indeterminate  search  among  his  well-worn  favorites,  he  took 
down  a  volume  of  Toemmei's  poems,  a  venerable  old  Chinese 
classic,  and  began  to  read  aloud.  Iriya,  in  the  kitchen,  had 
already  begun  to  discuss  the  evening  meal.  Yuki  sat,  list- 
lessly, with  folded  hands,  in  her  own  room,  next  to  the  library. 
Her  one  thought  now  was  to  hear  the  cry  "  Dempo ! "  which 
should  announce  the  coming  of  Gwendolen's  telegram.  To 
look  out  upon  an  indefinite  period  of  such  days  as  these  was 
almost  more  than  the  girl's  brave  spirit  could  endure.  Yet,  to 
Pierre  she  had  given  an  oath.  She  bad  let  him  break  the  long 
hairpin.  If  he  commanded  her  "  Be  firm  and  true,"  she  would 
be  true,  no  matter  what  came  ! 

Through  these  dark,  monotonous  thoughts,  her  father's 
voice,  low,  rich,  and  sonorous,  with  the  jerky  melodic  chant 
and  rhythm  imposed  by  long  reading  aloud  of  Chinese  litera- 
ture, flowed  up  and  finally  compelled  her.  So  had  she  been 
taught  to  read  in  childhood,  before  her  long  sojourn  in  a 
foreign  land. 

"  '  Let  me  now  return,  for  my  farm  and  garden  are  growing 
wild!  As  the  boat  skims  lightly  along  the  water,  the  wind 
plays  with  my  sleeves.  0  boatman !  how  far  yet  to  my  home  ? 
So  far,  and  yet  the  hour  so  late !  Now,  now  at  last  I  see  my 
own  loved  gate,  and  enter  with  joyous  rush.' "  The  deep  tones 
rose  as  in  triumph,  then  sank  again  to  infinite  tenderness. 
"  *  The  paths  to  my  steps  are  growing  up  wild  with  grass,  but 
the  pine  and  the  chrysanthemums  still  flourish.  With  my  chil- 
dren in  my  arms  I  enter  the  house,  drink  a  refreshing  draught, 
and  gaze,  and  gaze  again  at  the  shadows  under  the  garden  trees. 

" '  Eeturn  !  Return !  Why  should  I  not  return  ?  Let  me 
renounce  the  intercourse  and  pleasure  of  the  world.'  Let 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       217 

me  and  the  world  renounce  each  other !    There  is  nothing 
more  for  me  to  derive  from  the  world !  — 

"'The  farmers  come  in  and  tell  me  that  spring  is  approach- 
ing. There  are  rumors  of  war  in  the  West.  But  why  should 
they  interfere  with  my  rambles  ?  The  trees  put  on  a  smile 
and  begin  to  bud.  The  streams  look  busy  and  begin  to  flow. 
What  joy  to  see  all  things  fall  due  at  their  season !  And  yet 
I  am  reminded  that  my  season,  too,  is  almost  come.  Alas! 
The  lodging  of  man  in  this  Inn  of  the  Universe  is  but  for  a 
single  season  ! ' ' 

Yuki's  hands  were  pressed  against  her  breast.  In  the 
samurai's  slow,  fervid  utterance  one  could  feel  each  word  fill 
and  thrill  the  heroic  heart  before  utterance  came  to  the  lips. 
He  was  deriving  strength  and  comfort  from  the  immortal 
ode.  " '  Commit  then,  0  soul,  thyself  upon  the  current  of 
things ! '  "  rose  the  exulting  psean.  " 'Let  me  choose  my  own 
time.  Let  me  go  out  for  my  solitary  walk !  Let  me  hobble 
about  the  farm  on  my  friendly  cane.  Let  me  toil  up  the 
Eastern  hill,  look  the  clear  brook  in  the  face,  and  sing  it  my 
dying  songs.  So  let  me  end  my  days  as  days  of  themselves 
may  end.  So  shall  my  joy  flow  on  with  the  eternal  will  of 
Heaven ! ' " 

Yuki  sat  upright,  her  wide  eyes  fixed,  as  it  were,  upon  the 
viewless  flight  of  echo.  "And  they  of  the  Western  world  say 
that  my  people  have  no  true  religion,  no  deep  belief.  Their 
souls  crawl,  where  ours  take  wings!  Nippon,  Nippon,  my 
country ! " 

The  magnificence  of  her  nation's  past,  the  heroism,  self- 
sacrifice  inherent  in  her  countrymen,  the  passionate  craving 
for  what  is  spiritual  and  sublime,  the  belief  in  watchful 
spirits  of  dead  ancestors,  in  the  divinity  and  guidance  of  dead 
Emperors  manifest  in  the  living  flesh,  came  in  a  flood  and 
bore  up  the  girl's  spirit  in  a  tide  of  light.  What  were  foreign 
education,  foreign  friendship,  foreign  pledges,  —  love  itself,  — 
to  a  girl  of  Yamato  Damashii?  She  was  Japanese,  one  small 
animate  cell  in  a  living  tissue  of  race.  To  serve  her  country, 
that,  indeed,  should  be  life's  worth.  "Pierre,  Pierre,"  she 
sobbed.  "I  shall  not  bring  you  joy,  nor  can  you  give  to 
me  the  duty  that  it  is  my  part  to  bear.  Let  me  go,  dear 


218  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

one,  let  me  go,  and  pray  to  our  Christian  God  that  your 
kisses  fade  from  me,  and  your  blue  eyes  be  turned  away.  If 
I  were  only  myself  I  would  die,  or  defy  for  you  everything. 
But  I  am  not  myself ;  I  am  what  my  ancestors,  my  parents 
and  my  country  have  made  me  ;  I  am  only  one  shivering  mote 
of  dust  in  my  country's  shining  destiny.  Let  me  go,  my 
dear;  Kwannon  will  bless  you!" 

Slow,  helpful  tears  began  to  course,  unfelt,  along  her  white 
cheeks.  All  at  once  the  physical  exhaustion  of  long,  sleepless 
nights  and  days  unendurable  began  to  tell  on  her.  The 
glossy  head  bent  over,  lower  and  lower.  Tetsujo,  after  a  long 
pause,  had  begun  an  heroic  epic  of  the  Heike  clan.  The 
words  were  indistinct,  a  sort  of  splendid  blur.  She  had  an 
impression  of  horses,  arms,  war-shouts,  and  of  fluttering  ban- 
ners on  distant  hills.  Then  all  sounds  began  to  die  away. 
She  smiled  faintly,  and  stretched  out  her  slender  young  limbs 
upon  the  soft  matting.  Soon  she  was  asleep,  with  the  long, 
regular  breaths  of  childhood. 

Without  stirring,  she  remained  in  the  unconscious  pose  for 
hours.  Iriya,  peeping  in  upon  her,  choked  back  a  little  sob 
of  thanksgiving,  and  turned  away  to  kneel,  in  her  room, 
before  the  ancestral  shrine.  Lights  burned  here  always,  and 
the  pleasant  aroma  of  fresh  tea  was  seldom  absent.  With 
hands  struck  very  softly  together,  that  the  sleeper  should  not 
be  disturbed,  Iriya  supplicated  the  gods  of  her  home  and  of 
her  nation  that  the  child  should  be  given  clearer  vision.  A 
European  would  have  demanded  personal  happiness  for  her 
daughter.  The  Japanese  soul  sees  deeper,  and  asks,  as  the 
highest  boon,  power  to  carry  out,  in  this  life,  that  which 
has  been  decreed,  and  so,  for  the  future,  to  achieve  a  nobler 
attitude. 

Just  at  the  hour  of  twilight  Iriya  returned,  and  kneeling, 
called  softly,  "  Yuki-ko  —  my  heart's  treasure  —  you  must 
awake." 

Yuki  sat  upright  instantly.     "  Has  the  dempo  come  ?  " 

"Yes," said  Iriya,  presenting  a  pink  sealed  missive.  "And 
in  the  guest-room  waits  Prince  Hagane." 

Yuki  tore  the  telegram  apart,  threw  open  the  shoji  for 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       219 

more  light,  and  read:  "Find  it  impossible  to  do  anything 
with  P  no  logic  or  reason  pathetic  but  a  child  we  all  think 
case  hopeless  forever  in  your  place  would  accept  H  whatever 
happens  I  am  your  loving  faithful  G." 

"  It  is  a  terribly  long  message  to  come  in  such  an  expensive 
way.  Surely  it  is  from  a  foreigner,"  ventured  Iriya. 

"  How  long  has  it  been  here,  mother  ?  " 

Iriya  showed  embarrassment.  "  Since  about  noon,  I  believe. 
Suzume  honorably  received  it  and  gave  it  to  her  master,  as 
she  was  bid.  Your  father  would  not  let  you  have  it  now, 
but  that  Prince  Hagane  took  it  from  his  hands  and  sent  it. 
He  says  you  are  to  read  and  consider  it ;  also  that  you  must 
not  hasten.  What  marvellous  kindness  he  always  shows, 
that  great  man !  " 

Yuki  rose  slowly.  "  He  is  great  and  kind.  Give  thanks 
to  him,  my  mother,  and  say  that  I  shall  enter  within  a  few 
moments." 

Iriya  prepared  to  leave.  She  had  searched  her  daughter's 
eyes  for  a  loving  recognition,  but  in  vain.  On  the  threshold 
she  wavered.  "  My  baby,  —  my  only  one  ! "  she  cried  aloud 
brokenly,  and  held  out  her  arms.  In  an  instant,  before  Yuki 
could  respond,  she  closed  the  fusuma  and  ran  toward  the 
guest-room. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

PRINCE  HAGANE  sat  in  the  place  of  honor,  his  back  to 
the  tokonoma,  where  new  flowers  bloomed  and  incense  per- 
fumed the  space.  His  robes,  of  the  usual  magnificent  quality 
of  silk,  had  to-night  a  deep  bronze  color.  The  candles,  placed 
one  on  each  side  of  him,  threw  down  a  yellow  light,  which 
took  the  wrinkles  from  his  scarred  face  and  some  of  the  sad- 
ness from  his  mouth.  To  Tetsujo's  feasting  eyes  he  appeared 
as  a  god;  not  the  meek,  forgiving  Buddha  whom  women 
and  children  adore,  but  some  splendid  old  war-god  of  Shinto 
tradition,  young  with  the  immortality  of  youth,  yet  old  as  the 
world  in  wisdom. 

The  outer  shoji  stood  well  apart,  letting  in  the  chill,  wet 
sweetness  of  the  night.  The  storm  had  now  quite  died  away. 
The  air  of  the  room  was  so  still  that  the  candle-flames  stood 
like  balanced  flakes  of  topaz,  and  the  white  smoke  of  the  burn- 
ing incense  hung  like  a  silver  cord  from  the  gloom  above. 

The  moment  that  Yuki  entered,  Hagane,  with  his  trained 
vision,  saw  that  some  great  spiritual  change  had  taken  place. 
The  look  of  miserable  defiance  he  feared  was  not  there.  Iriya 
had  waited  for  her.  The  two  women  advanced  to  the  great 
visitor,  and  bowed  before  him  three  times,  then  went  back 
modestly  to  the  far  end  of  the  room.  Suzume  brought  fresh 
tea,  and  two  new  balls  of  charcoal  for  the  hibachi.  As  the 
servant  left,  Iriya  asked  of  her  husband,  "  Shall  I  also  with- 
draw ?  " 

"It  is  according  to  our  lord's  will,"  answered  Tetsujo,  his 
eyes  turning  to  the  prince. 

"  What  would  you  prefer,  Yuki-ko  ?  "  Hagane's  voice  was 
kind. 

"  I  should  prefer  my  mother  to  remain,"  answered  Yuki, 
without  hesitation. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       221 

"Madame  Onda,  I  beg  you  to  honor  us  with  your  presence," 
said  Hagane,  with  a  slight  bow. 

Onda  Tetsujo  frowned.  If  his  loyal  nature  allowed  him  to 
make  one  criticism  of  his  daimyo,  it  was  of  a  certain  lax,  for- 
eign politeness  toward  women.  The  fault  seemed  to  increase 
with  years.  Whether  Prince  Hagane  suspected  this  disappro- 
bation or  not,  on  this  occasion  at  least  he  made  no  attempt  to 
modify  it. 

"  I  have  come  in  person,  little  Yuki-ko,  to  hear  your  thought. 
No,  do  not  speak  yet !  "  he  interpolated,  with  a  slight  lifting 
of  the  right  hand.  "Wait  until  I  give  you  questions  to  an- 
swer! At  the  beginning  there  must  be  quiet  discussion  be- 
tween us  four,  with  no  haste  or  opposition  on  the  part  of  — 
any."  He  looked,  with  these  last  words,  directly  at  his  old 
retainer. 

"  My  Lord,  my  Lord  ! "  fumed  Tetsujo,  "  shall  I  be  able  to 
contain  myself  while  you  condescend  to  bandy  words  with  a 
mere  girl  ?  " 

"  If  I  command  it,  I  think  you  will  contain  yourself,"  said 
the  prince,  easily.  Tetsujo  rocked  on  the  matting,  gripped 
his  arms  tightly,  and  was  silent. 

"  The  gods  seem  to  have  decreed  no  happiness  for  me  in 
marriage,"  said  Hagane,  impersonally,  to  all.  "  Perhaps  they 
have  only  new  mockery  in  store,  if  now,  in  my  old  age,  I  dare 
take  to  myself  this  fair  flower.  Yet  am  I  tempted ;  by  the 
good  for  her,  as  it  seems  to  me;  by  my  friendship  for  you, 
Onda  Tetsujo;  and  by  the  need  for  an  official  mistress  of  my 
house.  I  can  give  her  unusual  opportunity  to  serve  Nippon, 
as  in  my  letter  I  wrote." 

Iriya,  in  her  corner,  put  her  face  to  the  floor.  "  My  Lord, 
even  that  you  have  thought  it,  makes  richer  the  traditions  of 
our  house  —  through  ten  succeeding  generations." 

"I  would  not  have  the  child  consent  because  of  family 
honors,  my  good  dame,"  said  Hagane,  a  little  sadly. 

"  Shall  I  speak  now,  Lord  ?  "  asked  Yuki,  in  her  sweet, 
steady  voice.  Tetsujo  ground  his  teeth,  but.  managed  to  keep 
silent. 

"  Would  you  speak  of  the  young  Frenchman,  whose  mother 
is  a  Russian  ?  " 


222  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Yuki's  eyes  fell  and  her  chin  quivered.  "  Yes,  your  High- 
ness." 

"  Speak  !  —  fully ! "  said  he,  after  a  pause. 

"  He  offered  me  marriage  many  times,  your  Highness,  and 
I  refused,  saying  that  not  without  my  parents'  consent  could 
I  answer.  Then,  at  one  hour,  being  weak,  I  promised.  In 
the  foreign  land,  where  you  and  my  father  sent  me,  such 
promises  bind,  —  even  as  the  oaths  of  men.  I  have  been 
bound." 

"  Gods  of  my  ancestors !  Must  I  listen  to  this  cat-mewing  ?  " 
groaned  On  da. 

"  Be  quiet !  The  girl  shall  speak.  Yes,  Yuki,"  he  con- 
tinued, his  eyes  softening  as  they  returned  to  her  white  face, 
"I  felt  that  you  had  promised.  And  so,  in  my  letter,  if  you 
willirecall,  I  assured  you  that  you  were  not  bound." 

"  Your  Highness  !  "  ventured  the  girl,  at  length.  "  It  was 
your  noble  thought,  your  decision,  not  my  own.  I  am  bound." 

Hagane  looked  at  her  in  mild  wonder,  with  the  faintest 
touch  of  a  smile.  "  And  not  even  your  daimyo's  word  can  free 
your  childish  promise  ?  You  have  courage." 

"  The  mad  lynx !    Let  me  deal  with  her  ! "  panted  Tetsujo. 

"  He,  my  father,  so  speaks  and  thinks  of  me ! "  broke  in  the 
girl,  with  passionate  protest  and  a  wide-flung  gesture  toward 
Onda.  "  In  that  country  no  shame  is  felt  for  such  a  promise. 
Yet  ray  father  treats  me  as  an  outcast,  a  blot  upon  the  family 
name !  I  ask  you,  Lord,  who  are  great  and  strong,  to  help 
me ! " 

"To  what  shall  I  help  you,  little  one?  To  marriage  with 
an  alien? — repudiation  of  a  country  that  I  serve?" 

"  No,  Lord ;  for  of  myself  I  could  not  marry  him,  now,  with 
my  dear  land  at  war.  When  I  first  knew  him,  war  had  not 
become  even  a  threat.  Only  against  —  misunderstanding  — 
and,  Lord,  —  being  forced  — ! " 

Hagane  interrupted  her  with  his  slight  gesture.  "You  will 
be  forced  to  nothing!  — not  now,  nor  so  long  as  my  voice  can 
use  the  speech  of  living  men !  Your  decision  is  valueless 
unless  it  be  your  own.  It  may  be  even  harmful ;  for  the 
young  branch,  held  down  by  force,  slashes  heaven  in  its 
rebound.  Nay,  child !  I  would  have  you  bend  slowly  to  my 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       223 

proffered  opportunity,  weighted  by  your  own  ripening  desire 
for  loyalty  and  service.  To  compel  you  would  be  impiety. 
Believe  yourself  protected  by  my  word,  and  by  iny  faith  in 
you !  Be  calm  and  think  seriously,  for  upon  this  hour  depends 
more  than  you  can  fathom  ! ;> 

His  deep  voice  boomed  into  a  silence  long  maintained.  One 
of  the  tall  candles  sputtered  and  flared.  Iriya  rose  quickly  to 
mend  it.  Tetsujo's  arms,  within  short  blue  cotton  sleeves, 
were  folded  and  pressed  tightly  down  upon  his  chest,  as  if  to 
keep  back  straining  utterance.  Through  the  stillness  his 
quick  breaths  ran.  The  girl  gazed  out  now,  motionless,  be- 
yond Hagane  into  the  wet  blankness  of  the  garden.  Famil- 
iar outlines  of  rock  and  bridge  and  pine  kept  there,  she  knew, 
their  changeless  postures.  Only  a  fallen  darkness  hid  them. 
So  in  her  heart  must  be  immovable  shapes  and  living  growths 
of  heroism  and  selfless  devotion.  An  Occidental  training 
superimposed  upon  a  child's  fresh  fancy;  a  foreign  love, 
jealously  guarding  for  its  own  purpose  the  tissues  of  new 
thought,  —  these  things  hid  the  garden  of  her  heart  as  night 
now  hid  her  father's  garden.  Hagane's  look  and  words  were 
bringing  dawn,  a  dawn  perhaps  of  sorrow,  a  day  dragged  up 
from  an  heroic  past,  and  trailing  its  own  hung  clouds  of 
tears. 

Hagane  spoke  again.  His  deep  voice  calmed  and  satisfied 
the  unstable  silence.  He  changed  his  position  very  slightly, 
facing  Yuki  more  squarely.  He  raised  his  massive  chin,  and 
a  smile  played  on  a  mouth  that  seemed  made  for  stern  sadness. 
Quite  irrelevantly,  he  began  to  relate  to  his  small  audience  an 
incident  of  his  crowded  day. 

"Do  you  remember,  Tetsujo, — Yuki  also  may  recall  from 
her  childhood's  impression, — that,  as  one  stands  on  the  jut- 
ting corner  of  my  Tabata  laud,  by  the  large  leaning  maple,  — 
a  corner  so  steep  that  it  must  be  upheld  by  the  hewn  trunks  of 
pines,  —  exactly  at  foot  of  the  cliff  stands  a  very  small  cottage, 
with  roof  patched  by  the  rusted  sides  of  old  foreign  kerosene 
cans  ?  "  He  paused  for  an  answer.  Yuki's  eyes  would  not 
leave  the  dark  mystery  of  the  night. 

"I  remember  most  clearly,  your  august  Highness,"  mur- 
mured Onda,  with  a  respectful  inclination  of  his  head  toward 


224  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

the  great  man,  but  an  indignant  scowl  in  the  direction  of 
Yuki. 

"An  aged  woman  and  her  only  child,  a  son,  live  in  that 
house.  He  is  a  good  son,  for  though  hot  with  the  desire  for 
military  service,  he  has  kept  steadily  to  his  labor  as  under- 
gardener  on  my  place.  There  seemed  to  be  no  one  else  with 
whom  his  mother  could  find  a  home.  Of  late  the  boy  has 
looked  ill.  I  have  overheard  the  servants  say  that  his  soul 
was  attempting  to  leave  the  chained  body  and  go  off,  as  it 
wished,  to  the  battlefield.  Such  agony  as  this  repression,  I 
believe  only  our  countrymen  are  capable  of  experiencing  or  of 
enduring." 

Now,  at  last,  Yuki  turned  and  fixed  her  look  on  Hagane. 
He  did  not  notice  this  any  more  than  he  had  seemed  to 
observe  her  previous  indifference. 

"  The  youth  dutifully  kept  this  longing  from  the  old  dame. 
But  she  questioned,  and  through  her  slow  round  of  domestic 
services  she  pondered.  Then  she  came  to  understand.  Per- 
haps the  young  soldier-husband,  dead  for  thirty  years,  had 
returned  —  to  whisper.  Whatever  the  cause,  she  came  —  to  — 
understand."  He  paused  an  instant,  as  if  to  take  a  firmer 
hold  upon  his  voice.  "  To-day,  —  scarcely  an  hour  ago,  Yuki, 
—  the  youth,  returning  from  labor,  found  his  mother — dead  — 
before  the  family  shrine.  She  had  used  her  husband's  short 
sword.  It  will  be  buried  with  her.  The  smile  upon  her  old 
face  had  gained  already  the  youth  and  glory  of  a  god's.  She 
left  no  message ;  the  smile  told  him  all.  —  To-morrow  the  son 
takes  passage  for  Manchuria." 

Yuki's  dawn  had  come.  It  hurt  her,  like  the  birth  of  a 
soul.  Hagane  saw  the  same  look  which,  for  one  fleet  instant,  he 
had  evoked  from  her  at  Washington.  His  strong  heart  reeled 
toward  the  girl.  Iriya  was  sobbing  softly.  Tetsujo  sat  square 
like  a  box.  He  envied  the  mother  and  the  son.  He  saw  no 
pathos  in  the  tale,  only  victory.  Those  two  would  be  together 
on  the  Yalu;  while  he,  Tetsujo,  famed  warrior,  skilled  swords- 
man, must  pine  at  home  and  listen  to  the  pulings  of  weak 
women ! 

The  glory  grew  on  Yuki.  Above  the  flowers  of  the  toko- 
noma,  above  Hagane's  head,  hung  a  tattered  battle-flag  of  their 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       225 

own  clan.     She  recognized  it  now.      Her  hands  trembled. 
She  lifted  them  toward  Hagane. 

"  Onda  Yuki-ko  !  "  he  almost  whispered,  so  deep  and  tense 
his  voice  became.  "This  year,  this  day,  this  very  hour,  may 
be  the  pivot  of  human  history  upon  this  planet !  And  is  not 
the  diamond-point  on  which  that  mighty  turning  rests,  the 
Spirit  of  Japan?" 

"  Banzai  Nippon  !  Dai  Nippon !  Banzai !  Banzai !  "  shouted 
Tetsujo,  and  beat  his  fists  on  the  matting. 

Hagane,  with  a  smile  that  seemed  to  deprecate  yet  condone 
his  kerai's  vehemence,  went  on  directly  to  Yuki.  "Strange 
that  Western  minds  —  the  astute  American  politician,  the 
journalist,  even  the  cleverest  of  Europe's  statesmen  —  hardly 
claim  to  look  forward  more  than  a  few  years,  —  five,  ten,  at 
best  half  a  century  !  They  want  results  they  shall  live 
to  see  —  after  them  the  deluge !  As  they  have  forgotten  the 
very  names  of  their  grandfathers,  so  they  ignore  their  descend- 
ants. But  we  of  the  East  count  time  in  other  lengths.  We 
do  not  bound  our  horizon  with  personal  aim  or  the  catchword 
of  a  day.  We  owe,  —  we  owe  ourselves,  —  all,  to  a  future 
that  we  may  not  comprehend,  but  have  no  right,  in  our  ignor- 
ance, to  cramp.  What  we  are  fighting  for  at  this  moment 
will  not  be  fully  realized  for  two  hundred  years.  Then  it 
will  be  seen  as  a  great  landscape  in  a  valley.  Your  foreigners 
are  like  children  that  play  now  in  that  valley.  But  every 
Japanese  patriot  stands  lonely  on  a  mountain,  —  very  lonely, 
very  lonely ! " 

"Is  one  alone  in  a  shining  company  of  spirits,  Lord?" 
asked  Yuki,  a  wonderful  glow  now  kindling  in  her  long  eyes. 
"  Will  that  youth  of  whom  you  told  us  be  lonely,  though  he 
stand  singly  against  a  squadron  of  Cossacks  ?  Where  is  his 
mother's  soul  ?  0  Gods  of  my  country  !  0  my  dear  Christian 
God  !  why  was  it  not  given  to  me  to  be  a  man  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that  the  soul  of  a  woman  who  shirks  would 
be  less  cowardly  if  put  into  the  body  of  a  man  ?  Even  your 
Christians  could  tell  you  better." 

"  Lord  !  Lord  !  "  cried  the  girl  to  him  in  great  stress,  "  am 
I  indeed  of  the  coward's  heart  ?  Is  this  thing  I  call  fidelity 
but  a  shirking  ?  " 

16 


226  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"  A  Japanese  has  no  fidelity  but  to  his  Emperor ! "  thun- 
dered Onda. 

"Be  quiet,  Tetsujo !  Listen,  poor  wavering  little  heart; 
I  will  try  to  make  you  understand.  You  cannot  be  allowed 
to  marry  this  man,  not  because  we  wish  to  thwart  you,  but  —  " 

"  I  said  I  would  not  marry  him,  now,  —  not  now  !  " 

"  Then  what  will  you  do  ?  "  asked  Hagane.  "  All  are  striv- 
ing to  their  utmost.  What  will  be  your  part  ?  Do  you  intend 
to  sit  sullen  and  inactive  here,  at  home  ?  " 

"  The  wench  shall  remain  no  longer  under  my  roof  ! "  raged 
Tetsujo. 

"She  will  remain  under  your  roof,  good  Tetsujo,  and  be 
treated  with  courtesy,"  corrected  the  prince. 

"Let  me  go  as  a  nurse !  Oh,  I  could  never  stay  with  them  ! 
Their  harsh  eyes  would  flay  me  !  I  feel  even  now  their 
hatred ! " 

"  Not  mine,  my  baby,  my  only  child ! "  wailed  Iriya. 
"  Think  not  so  of  your  mother's  imperishable  love ! " 

Yuki  at  last  hid  her  face.  The  note  of  anguish  in  her 
mother's  voice  overcame  her  pathetic  defiance. 

"  My  official  residence  is  cold  and  lonely,"  remarked  Hagane, 
sipping  slowly  at  some  tea.  "  It  sorely  needs  a  mistress  well 
acquainted  with  foreign  etiquette.  Foreigners  are  to  be  met 
and  conciliated.  The  Emperor  himself,  and  his  shining  spouse, 
would  receive  one  who  so  served  her  land,  and  hear  from  her 
own  lips  impressions  of  America,  and  the  sentiments  of  the 
people  there  toward  us.  A  woman's  intuition  is  keen,  and 
penetrates  farther  than  a  man's  weightier  judgment, — just  as 
the  tendrils  of  a  vine  creep  into  lattices  which  a  tree  would 
only  darken.  It  is  in  such  a  capacity,  Yuki-ko,  that  you  could 
do  immediate  good.  My  disorganized  servants  would  again 
be  set  into  grooves  of  usefulness.  Another  reason,  which 
must  not  be  spoken  openly,  as  yet,  —  I  may  soon  be  called  to 
the  front,  and  the  several  residences  should  not  be  closed." 

"  Lord !  You  would  trust  with  such  responsibilities  a  weak, 
untutored  girl  like  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  little  one,  I  would  trust  you." 

"  And  I  would  be  in  all  respects  —  your  —  wife  ?  "  asked 
Yuki,  in  a  very  low  tone. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       227 

"  Yes.  Why  not  ?  What  is  the  human  body  but  a  petal 
drifting  in  the  wind  ?  If,  for  a  moment,  the  bright  tint  or 
the  fleeting  perfume  please,  is  it  not  best  to  grasp  the  trivial 
pleasure  ?  Yet  it  is  to  great  things  that  I  call  you,  Onda 
Yuki.  Things  of  service,  of  the  spirit,  heroism  perhaps,  per- 
haps self-sacrifice,  —  for  the  flesh  is  stubborn.  This  shall  be 
your  proof  of  loyalty  to  your  Emperor  and  to  this  land !  " 

"  I  would  gladly  die  for  them  ! "  she  cried. 

Hagane  emptied  the  few  dregs  of  his  teacup  into  the  hot 
ashes  of  the  hibachi,  ignoring  the  ceremonial  little  bowl  put 
near  for  the  purpose.  "  It  was  in  Washington,  I  believe,  that 
once  before  you  made  that  foolish  remark.  What  use  would 
death  be,  especially  if  you  seek  it  as  an  escape  from  conditions 
that  do  not  please  you  ?  Cowardice  is  a  crime  of  the  spirit !  I 
see  no  chance  for  you  to  serve  but  this." 

"  But  to  be  your  wife,  your  wife  —  while  yet  he  —  that 
other  —  holds  my  pledge  ! "  murmured  the  girl,  piteously, 
under  her  breath.  "I  prayed  for  freedom,  but  he  would  not 
send  it  — !"  Gwendolen's  telegraphic  words,  "I  would  accept 
H."  came  to  her  like  a  little  gust  of  refreshing  wind.  She 
looked  again  squarely  into  Hagane's  noble  face.  For  the  first 
time  Pierre's  rose  before  her,  a  little  weak,  a  little  over- 
delicate,  with  incipient  lines  of  self-indulgence. 

"  My  child,"  said  Hagane,  almost  in  a  pleading  tone,  "  Japan 
must  not  lose  you.  Put  your  life  into  my  hands,  and  let  me 
wield  it  for  our  country's  need.  I  believe  my  motives  to  be 
selfless.  If  indeed  your  young  beauty  blurs  my  vision,  then 
will  punishment  rightly  follow.  But  I  take  that  hazard.  Had 
I  a  son,  you  should  be,  more  fitly,  his  wife." 

"If  your  father's  everlasting  curse  —  "  Tetsujo  began;  but 
Hagane  stopped  him. 

"  We  need  no  curses,  Tetsujo !  You  are  showing  yourself 
unworthy  of  this  brave  child.  Be  quiet,  I  say ;  and  let  her 
own  soul  speak  to  her ! " 

Iriya  gasped,  and  Onda  bit  his  thick  lip  to  the  blood. 
Yuki's  lifted  face  had  the  pathos  of  dying  music.  "  Will  my 
soul  speak,  Lord  ?  "  she  breathed.  The  sound  of  her  voice  was 
cold  and  thin,  and  touched  with  a  mystic  fear. 

Almost  as  if  gathered  in  to  answer,  from  the  far  distance  a 


228  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

muffled  chorus  of  a  thousand  whispering  voices  quivered  in 
the  air,  —  drawing  nearer,  nearer,  —  until  the  sound  seemed  to 
press  upon  their  very  hearts.  Now  over  the  garden  a  soft, 
pale  light  began  to  dawn.  It  grew  to  a  concourse  of  a  thousand 
spirit-lamps,  crossing,  recrossing,  flickering,  then  passing  on. 
Feet  moving  softly,  though  by  the  hundred,  went  by  in  ghostly 
rhythm. 

"  Lord !  Lord ! "  panted  Yuki,  wild-eyed.  "What  is  it  ?  Do 
you  hear  also  ?  or  is  it  only  I  ?  " 

Hagane  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  watched  the  girl's  face 
as  one  watches  a  changing  chemical.  When  the  sound  had 
grown  unmistakably  human,  though  of  voices  kept  low  and 
tense  with  unusual  awe,  he  said  quietly,  "You  have  all 
heard  of  the  brave  young  Commander  Hirose,  who  died  rescu- 
ing his  friend,  in  the  second  attempt  to  block  Port  Arthur. 
This  is  a  band  of  Koishikawa  students  passing  down  to  the 
railway  station  to  meet  him." 

He  stopped,  wondering  how  much  the  girl  could  endure. 
The  glare  of  the  white  lanterns,  borne  aloft,  ploughed  a  great 
soundless  trench  of  light  through  the  trees  and  houses  that 
line  the  steep  slope  of  Kobinata's  hill.  Light  surged  over 
the  thorn  and  bamboo  hedges  of  Onda's  home,  brimming  the 
garden  with  a  tender  radiance,  and  revealing  hillock,  shrub, 
and  tree  as  in  a  faint  unearthly  dream.  It  threw  a  deeper 
glow  into  the  face  of  Hagane,  and  over  the  battle-flag  above 
him. 

As  for  Tetsujo,  he  listened  to  the  passing  of  countless  feet 
in  sullen  gloom.  He  hated  the  students  that  they  were  young. 
He  envied  the  death  of  Hirose.  It  would  be  a  clear  personal 
joy  to  die  that  way,  and  have  one's  name  blazoned  as  a  new 
god.  A  nobler  soul  might  have  cared  little  for  such  posthu- 
mous recognition ;  but  old  Onda's  generosity  did  not  reach  that 
height.  To  him,  heaven  was  a  place  where  spirits  swaggered, 
and  bore  the  two  swords  of  the  samurai. 

Hagane,  looking  only  at  Yuki,  continued  softly:  "A  hun- 
dred thousand  lanterns  of  the  dead  will  be  carried  this  night, 
for  the  brave  boy.  It  is  but  a  fragment  of  his  flesh,  that  was 
found  with  a  bit  of  uniform  clinging  to  it ;  but  the  precious 
relic  will  have  —  friends,  to  bear  it  to  the  temple.  There  his 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       229 

young  widow,  smiling  like  a  statue  of  Kwannon,  awaits  it ; 
and  his  little  son,  calmly  proud  that  his  father  has  become  a 
great  spirit.  No  heart  in.  Nippon,  to-night  —  but  worships  — 
Hirose!  " 

Hagane's  voice  had  been  even  enough,  and  calm ;  but  some- 
thing in  it  loosened  Yuki's  soul  from  the  flesh.  Again  she 
stared  at  him,  as  if  mesmerized.  Then  suddenly  she  half  rose, 
leaning  toward  him,  and  hurled  herself  face  down  on  the 
mats,  within  reach  of  his  hand. 

"  All  that  I  have  to  give  is  dust !  The  body  is  nothing ! 
The  gods  have  released  me !  Take  me,  great-hearted  man,  and 
use  me  to  my  country's  need !  " 

The  shifting  footsteps  all  had  passed.  The  faint  reflected 
glamour  of  the  lanterns  spread  far  below  along  the  level  stone 
road  by  the  Arsenal.  The  garden  was  plunged  again  into  black- 
ness. Onda  stared,  as  if  dazed,  after  the  lights,  then  brought 
his  eyes  to  Yuki's  prostrate  body.  His  slow  wits  could  not 
seize,  at  once,  the  realization  of  so  ineffable  a  hope.  Iriya 
muffled  her  sobs  in  her  sleeve. 

Hagane,  to  reassure  Yuki,  had  put  a  hand  lightly  upon  her 
thick  hair.  No  one  but  the  spirits  —  if  they  were  near  — saw 
a  dull  red  tide  of  passion  surge  up  to  his  broad  face,  swelling 
his  neck  into  purple  veins,  and  twitching  at  the  sinews  of  the 
powerful  hands.  But  his  voice,  when  he  answered,  was  that 
of  a  high-priest.  "  In  our  Emperor's  name,  my  child,  I  accept 
the  gift.  May  the  gods  assist  me  to  use  it  worthily  ! " 

Tetsujo,  half  crawling,  reached  the  tea-tray,  and  drained  a 
stale  cup  to  the  dregs.  Yuki  lay  so  still  that  Iriya  took  fond 
alarm.  The  joy  and  triumph  faded  from  her  face.  She  met 
Hagane's  look  with  a  slight  appealing  gesture  toward  her  child. 
Hagane  nodded.  She  crept  to  Yuki,  tugging  at  her  sleeve, 
and  trying  to  push  her  up  from  the  floor.  Hagane  leaned 
forward,  and  picked  the  girl  up  like  a  toy.  She  put  out 
a  faltering  hand  and  touched  her  mother. 

"  Come,  come,  my  treasure !  "  whispered  Iriya.  "  Let  us  go  to- 
gether to  your  little  room,  where  quiet  will  best  restore  you !" 

"  One  moment,  dame  ! "  said  Hagane.  "  I  must  speak  with 
Tetsujo,  in  your  presence."  The  old  kerai  was  on  his  knees, 
bowing,  his  exultation  only  exaggerating  his  humility. 


230  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

From  the  impersonal  ring  of  Hagane's  orders,  he  might 
have  been  outlining  a  Manchuriau  campaign.  "Let  there  be 
no  delay !  Since  at  any  hour  I  may  be  ordered  to  the  front, 
I  wish  the  ceremony  over,  that  I  may  instruct  Yuki  in  certain 
official  duties  before  I  leave.  And  remember,  this  is  no  time 
for  expenditure  or  display." 

"  Your  will  is  mine,  Augustuess." 

"  This  is  Friday.  Next  Wednesday,  then,  at  my  Tabata 
villa !  All  shall  be  in  readiness.  Is  this  as  you  wish,  Yuki- 
ko?" 

''Your  will  is  mine,  Lord,"  whispered  Yuki,  echoing  uncon- 
sciously her  father's  words. 

"The  child  trembles.  May  I  not  conduct  her  to  her 
chamber  ? "  asked  Iriya  of  the  prince. 

"Yes,  dame,"  replied  he,  kindly.  "And,  brave  little  one, 
farewell!  I  am  overcharged  with  duties,  and  may  not  see 
you  again  till  Wednesday,  at  noon.  One  instant ! "  The  two 
women  paused,  Iriya  facing  him  expectantly,  Yuki  with  head 
hung  low.  "  I  want  to  say,  here,  in  the  presence  of  my  too- 
zealous  Tetsujo,  that  Yuki  is  to  be  treated,  from  this  moment, 
with  the  respect  and  dignity  that  becomes  a  Princess  Hagane. 
There  is  to  be  no  espionage ;  no  opposition ;  no  suggestion  of 
restraint  of  any  kiftd !  My  entire  confidence  is  with  my  future 
wife.  Do  you  understand  that,  Onda  Tetsujo  ?" 

"  Yes,  Lord,"  growled  Tetsujo,  crimson  with  mortification ; 
but  he  did  not  forget  to  bow. 

In  her  own  room  Yuki  stood  staring,  dazed,  ignoring  her 
mother's  frequent  suggestion  to  be  seated.  "No!  Let  me 
breathe !  Let  me  learn  to  breathe  again ! "  muttered  she  at 
last,  and  caught  her  mother's  arm  as  she  stepped  to  the  tiny 
veranda.  From  the  guest-room  beyond,  where  the  two  men 
talked,  a  soft  light  gleamed,  throwing  the  pebbled  paths  of 
the  garden  into  little  Milky  Ways  of  light.  The  shrubs  lay 
round  and  dark,  like  a  flock  of  little  clouds.  Beyond  all 
rose  the  tall  black  hedge  of  bamboo  and  of  thorn. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  have  brought  to  us  great 
happiness  and  pride.  Surely  reward  will  come  to  you,  even 
in  this  incarnation.  I  will  pray  ceaselessly  to  Kwaunon  in 
your  behalf." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       231 

Yuki  leaned  closer  to  her  mother.  The  cool  wet  smell  of 
the  garden  already  stole  away  some  of  the  hot  bewilderment 
from  her  brain.  The  angry  waves  of  indecision,  girlish  long- 
ing, and  patriotism,  which  had  raged  so  furiously  together, 
now  began  to  recede,  leaving  bare  at  last  a  small  white  strip 
of  thought.  She  was  safe  now,  pledged,  not  to  personal  joy, 
but  to  heroic  service.  The  greatest  of  all  men  was  to  be 
her  teacher,  her  helper,  her  —  husband  !  Well,  what  of  it  ? 
Nothing  was  too  great  a  sacrifice  for  Nippon.  And  if  Pierre 
would  only  not  misjudge  too  cruelly !  Even  in  this  first 
vicarious  shudder  of  Pierre's  grief,  she  could  not  feel  that  he 
would  suffer  long.  His  agony  might  at  first  be  intense  and 
uncontrolled,  but,  through  its  very  exaggeration,  would  the 
more  swiftly  pass.  For  her  sake,  now,  he  must  leave  Japan. 
This  was  the  last  boon  that  love  should  ask  of  him. 

From  the  street,  from  the  other  side  of  that  inky  bamboo 
wall,  came  the  low  notes  of  a  foreign  song,  —  a  strain  from 
Carmen.  The  girl  shivered  once,  and  was  still. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  "  cried  Iriya,  herself  on  edge,  and  looking 
about  in  terror. 

Again  came  the  song,  soft  and  clear.  The  singer  stood, 
evidently,  just  beyond  the  bamboos.  Yuki's  lips  writhed 
together.  Her  fingers  tore  and  twitched,  one  hand  in  the  other. 

"  Yuki !     My  Yuki ! "  came  a  voice.     "  Is  it  too  late  ?  " 

Suddenly  wrenching  herself  from  Iriya's  arms,  the  girl  sprang 
down  the  two  stone  steps  and  plunged  into  the  shadows  of 
the  garden.  As  one  fiend-driven,  she  sped  over  paths,  shrubs, 
rocks,  and  prim  garden-stakes,  until,  at  the  hedge,  she  hurled 
herself  upon  it,  beating  at  it  with  frantic  hands,  and  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  go !  Go,  beloved  !  Never  again  come  here  !  Never 
sing  that  song  again,  or  —  I  cannot  live  at  all !  I  have 
promised  —  promised  —  a  new  pledge  —  stronger  than  the 
other !  It 's  of  my  free  will  I  give  myself  to  him !  Go  home 
to  your  native  land  !  Go !  go  !  " 

"  What  sound  is  that  ?  What  do  I  hear  ?  "  cried  Tetsujo, 
from  the  guest-room  balcony. 

"It  is  our  Yuki,  walking  in  the  garden,"  came  Iriya's  placid 
voice.  "  Disturb  not  your  honorable  spirit,  Master !  I  am 
with  the  child." 


232  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Tetsujo  returned,  to  be  met  by  a  chiding,  half-contemptu- 
ous remark  from  his  deity.  A  moment  later,  Iriya's  ashen 
face  was  in  the  kitchen.  "  Suzume !  Maru !  For  the  love 
of  Kwannon,  come  quickly!  Miss  Yuki  is  in  a  dead  faint, 
against  the  thorn  hedge!  Her  hands  are  bleeding! — Make 
no  noise  !  The  master  and  Prince  Hagane  must  not  know  !  " 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

SPRING  storms  in  Tokio,  as  in  other  capitals,  sweep  clean 
a  wide  pathway  of  days  for  sunshine  and  the  coming  flowers. 
On  the  morning  after  that  great  tempest  which  so  nearly 
crushed  Yuki  against  the  pond-stones  of  the  garden,  scarcely 
could  a  shadow  be  found,  so  eager  was  the  sun  to  atone  for 
past  misdeeds  of  her  naughty  younger  brother,  the  wind. 
Small  crumpled  leaves  began  to  straighten.  Boughs,  mud- 
soldered  to  muddy  earth,  drew  slowly  upward.  The  old  world 
stirred  like  a  conscious  thing. 

Pedestrians  sent  smiling,  answering  looks  of  brightness  to 
the  sky,  as  they  hurried  along  to  daily  work.  All  over  the 
great  city,  housewives  were  busy  hanging  out  bed-clothing,  and 
standing  the  removable  wadded  straw  mats  (tatami)  slanting- 
wise  against  veranda  posts,  to  get  the  full  strength  of  the 
sun. 

In  that  vast,  merry  hive  there  was  one  soul,  at  least, 
that  neither  saw  the  sunshine  nor  thrilled  to  the  glory  of  a 
re-created  earth.  Pierre  Le  Beau  had  been  sitting  for  many 
moments  before  an  untasted  breakfast,  his  body  slouched 
forward  under  the  table,  his  eyes  fixed  vacantly  on  a  square  of 
light  slowly  pushing  its  way  through  an  opened  window  into 
the  room.  Count  Ronsard,  already  in  his  easy-chair,  with 
letters,  papers,  cigarettes,  and  an  extra  cup  of  coffee  on  a  low 
stand  beside  him,  lifted,  just  before  opening  each  fresh  mis- 
sive, a  look  partly  amused,  partly  irritated  upon  his  sullen 
compatriot. 

Tsuna,  the  butler,  cautiously  approached,  and  substituted  a 
fresh  cup  of  coffee  for  the  forgotten  cold  one.  Pierre  caught 
at  the  edge  of  the  saucer.  "Merci,  Tsuna,"  he  said  with  a 
smile  which  all  his  abstraction  could  not  keep  from  being 
sweet,  "  but  take  all  else  away.  I  want  nothing  —  or,  at 
least,  I  have  eaten  sufficiently." 


234  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"Yes,  Tsuna,"  supplemented  the  minister.  "Clear  the 
table,  and  admit  no  guests.  If  a  'chit'  comes,  bring  it  in 
yourself." 

Pierre  would  have  sunk  back  into  his  lethargy,  but  the 
count,  having  by  this  time  finished  his  mail,  deliberately  set 
himself  to  learn  the  secret  of  this  new  dejection. 

"  What  have  we  here,  young  lover  ?  "  he  cried  gayly.  "  Why 
do  you  affront  the  fair  morning  with  your  sighs  ?  La,  la,  I 
know  the  symptoms, — the  rueful  mouth,  set  eyes,  loathed 
viands,  —  all  speak  the  distemper  of  love.  Come,  now,  un- 
burden thyself,  mon  fils.  I  have  a  leisure  hour.  I  see  in 
thee  need  for  brisk  philosophy." 

Pierre  shook  himself  free  with  difficulty  from  his  haunting 
visions, — Tetsujo's  black  face  and  burning  eyes;  a  wind- 
swept hedge,  bowing  and  straining  in  storm  until  at  the  next 
gust  of  tempest  it  must  lie  flat,  like  the  cover  of  a  book,  show- 
ing clear  her  home;  the  white,  strained,  watching  face;  and, 
later,  in  a  stiller,  denser  blackness,  faint  chinks  through 
upright  hedge-stems  of  bamboo  falling  from  a  broadly  lighted 
house ;  his  own  last  desperate  song  of  Carmen ;  the  terrible 
answering  cry ;  the  sound  of  feet  on  gravel ;  the  sound  of 
tender  hands  beating  on  thorn ;  a  mother's  sob ;  and  then,  — 
devouring  silence.  How  had  the  sun  such  callousness  that  it 
could  shine  to-day  after  such  a  blackness  ? 

Ronsard  watched  him  until  he  turned  slow,  haggard,  miser- 
able eyes.  Then  the  count  lowered  his  own.  At  this  critical 
point  Pierre  need  not  perceive  the  glimmer  of  pleased  hope. 
"  I  am  not  unacquainted  with  sorrow,  —  and  of  this  sort, 
Pierre,"  he  murmured  gently.  His  voice  might  have  poured 
from  an  alabaster  jar.  Pierre  felt  the  soothing,  and  still  he 
hesitated  to  reveal  this  deepest  wound.  In  their  one  previous 
discussion  Ronsard's  words  had  been  drops  of  acid.  The  boy 
shuddered  anew  at  the  remembered  sting. 

And  yet  he  must  speak  to  some  one.  This  anguish  could  not 
be  borne  alone.  Later  on,  Mrs.  Todd  would  purr  platitudes 
above  him.  He  did  not  wish  them  yet.  Now,  in  his  bewilder- 
ment, he  needed  the  advice  of  a  man,  —  a  man's  supplementary 
thought.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  speak,"  he  burst  out  impul- 
sively, "only,  dear  sir,  if  you  love  me,  give  not  that  tonic 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       235 

of  your  worldliness  at  full  strength.  I  am  hurt  with  life 
almost  to  the  point  of  flinging  it  aside ! " 

Eonsard  kept  himself  from  shrugging.  "Tut,  tut,"  he 
said  humorously.  "Had  perplexed  lovers  the  modicum  of 
existences  attributed  to  that  interesting  animal,  the  cat,  then 
might  they  listen  to  all  these  small  gusty  impulses  to  suicide. 
And,  by  the  way,  where  is  my  Zulika,  my  soft,  blue-tinted 
amorette  ?  Fast  in  the  sun,  I  '11  wager.  Ah,  Zulika,  core  of 
my  heart,  come,  warm  me,  while  I  hear  of  love  ! " 

At  his  words  the  great  blue  Persian  who  was  sleeping  near 
the  fire  in  a  spot  further  cheered  by  the  full  light  of  the  morn- 
ing sun,  stirred  drowsily,  opeued  a  reluctant  eye,  and  closed  it. 
She  moved  again,  with  a  shrug  not  unlike  her  master,  gained 
her  feet,  stretched  her  back  upward,  opened  a  mouth  lined  with 
pink  coral,  and,  with  a  last  reluctant  gaze  toward  the  warm 
spot  she  was  quitting,  approached  her  smiling  master.  He 
drew  her  into  the  chair  by  his  side,  touched  her  whiskered 
lips  with  a  finger  first  dipped  into  sweetened  coffee,  shook 
himself  and  her  into  smoother  lines  of  placidity,  and  turning 
again  directly  to  Pierre,  said,  "Now,  my  son,  thy  father  con- 
fessor is  at  peace.  Speak  what  you  will." 

The  episode  of  the  cat  did  not  please  Le  Beau.  Indeed,  he 
loathed  all  cats,  but  this  one  in  particular,  in  spite  of  its 
beauty. 

"Your  Excellency,"  he  began  in  an  uncertain  tone,  "I  find 
the  thing  difficult,  perhaps  unnecessary  to  impart.  It  has 
become  already  beyond  the  power  of  any  one  in  office  to 
advise." 

Eonsard  showed  interest.  He  tucked  the  cat  farther  out 
of  sight,  and  said,  "  If  you  cannot  tell,  permit  me  to  hazard 
a  guess.  Already  Mainselle  Onda  has  received  important 
propositions  ?  " 

Pierre  nodded.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  began  a  restless 
walking.  "You  are  far-seeing,  your  Excellency,"  he  cried 
bitterly.  "  It  is  marriage  offered  from  the  worn  voluptuary 
of  your  suggestion, —  from  Prince  Sanetomo  Hagane!" 

"  Hagane !  "  echoed  the  other  in  a  low,  tense  voice.  "  Though 
I  said  that  name,  Pierre,  I  scarcely  thought  it.  He  is  no 
voluptuary  —  Mon  Dieu !  — but  a  cone  of  granite  !  As  a  parti 


236  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

for  that  girl,  the  mere  daughter  of  a  rusty  samurai,  the  offer 
is  brilliant,  unprecedented !  Of  course  the  Onda  family  —  " 

He  paused  in  a  sustained  note  of  interrogation. 

"  As  you  remark  —  her  family  !  "  sneered  the  other.  "  They 
will  coerce  her  to  the  point  of  torture." 

E-onsard  drew  his  fat  lids  closer  about  the  brightening  eyes. 
"  How  long  has  this  been  known  to  you  ?  " 

"  Since  yesterday  morning.  I  receive  messages  from  my 
betrothed  through  Miss  Todd." 

"  Your  betrothed  is  broken-hearted,  of  course,  at  the  thought 
of  severance  from  you  ?  " 

"  My  betrothed  assures  me  of  he?  faith,"  said  Pierre,  with  a 
defiant  glance. 

"  Ah,  she  will  try  it !     Poor  little  devil !  " 

"Monsieur,  do  not  make  me  repent  already,"  Pierre  was 
angrily  beginning,  when  Tsuna's  voice  at  the  door  announced, 
"A  letter  for  M.  Le  Beau." 

Konsard  answered.  "  Bring  it  in.  Shut  the  door.  Where 
is  the  chit-book  ?  " 

"No  chit-book  or  messenger  came,  your  Excellency.  It 
was  brought  in  person  by  Sir  Onda  Tetsujo." 

"  Ah  !     Does  he  wait  ?  " 

"No,  your  Excellency.  He  turned  very  quickly.  There  is 
no  answer." 

"  Give  it  into  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Le  Beau  and  depart." 

"  Brought  by  Onda,  in  person.  It  will  throw  light,"  mur- 
mured Konsard. 

Pierre  was  fumbling  and  fidgeting  at  the  top  of  the  long, 
thin  Japanese  envelope.  In  an  excess  of  childish  impatience 
he  tore  it  with  his  teeth.  The  cat  lifted  its  head  at  the  noise, 
but  was  pressed  down  instantly  by  the  firm  hand  of  its  master. 
It  sneezed  indignantly,  and  went  to  sleep. 

Pierre,  after  two  flashing  readings,  burst  into  a  harsh  laugh, 
threw  the  missive  toward  Konsard,  and  then  hurrying  to  a 
window,  leaned  his  forehead  to  the  cold  glass. 

The  note  was  in  English,  written  on  very  thin  Japanese 
rice-paper,  six  inches  wide  and  perhaps  a  yard  in  length.  A 
Japanese  writing  brush  had  evidently  been  used,  for  in  the  slow, 
painful  composition  the  writer  had  lingered,  sometimes  for  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       237 

following  word  or  letter,  and  where  the  brush  rested  a  small 
round  blot  had  spread.  It  was  dated  that  morning.  It  con- 
tained but  one  long  sentence,  built  up  of  participial  and  relative 
clauses,  as  in  all  Japanese  construction. 

"MR.  PIERRE  LE  BEAU,  —  My  daughter  Onda  Yuki-ko  having  last 
night  become  by  her  own  will  no  force  the  affianced  [affianced  held 
three  blots]  wife  of  Prince  Sanetomo  Hagane  Minister  of  War  Daimyo 
of  Konda  for  great  honor  to  her  family  and  service  to  her  native  land 
we  respectfully  desire  you  your  honorable  body  from  our  neighborhood 
remove  entirely  or  trouble  will  become,  ONDA  TETSUJO." 

Ronsard  held  it  oxit.  "  Daudet  might  have  done  better  in 
phrasing,  but  even  he  could  have  made  the  meaning  no 
plainer." 

Pierre  at  the  window  gave  a  sound  of  derision,  and  was  still. 

The  count  sipped  daintily  at  his  coffee,  and  offered  some 
to  the  cat,  who,  mindful  of  recent  indignity,  turned  her  head. 
Lifting  the  diaphanous  screed,  he  read  it  once  more  carefully, 
studying,  it  would  seem,  each  separate  word. 

Pierre  raised  one  delicate  hand  and  tapped  on  the  window- 
frame  the  rhythm  of  an  air  from  Carmen.  Still  Ronsard 
gave  no  sign. 

"  Well,  your  Excellency,  is  this  all  you  can  remark  ? "  he 
cried,  whirling  about  as  the  strain  threatened  to  become  un- 
bearable. "  Has  the  father  confessor  nothing  but  the  husks 
of  literary  comparison  to  offer  ?  " 

"  Softly,  my  son.  Another  written  communication  will,  in 
a  moment,  be  with  you.  This  time  it  will  be  a  chit,  a  legiti- 
mate chit,  in  a  bright  new  leather  book." 

"  You  are  pleased  to  be  enigmatic." 

"Non, — you  flatter.  There  should  be  no  enigmas  to  a 
diplomat.  This  correspondent,  —  "  here  he  waved  the  sheet 
airily,  —  "  has  been  at  work  on  his  creation  since  the  time  of 
dawn.  There  are  full  three  hours  between  his  first  ink  and 
his  last.  Miss  Onda,  on  the  contrary,  writes  with  ease  and 
skill.  Her  letter  of  announcement  went  to  Miss  Todd.  It 
will  soon  come  to  you." 

"  How,  in  God's  name,  do  you  think  such  things  ?  "  cried 
Pierre,  in  reluctant  admiration. 


238  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"  I  seldom  think  them.  They  are  obliging  enough  to  come 
to  me,"  said  Eonsard,  with  a  deprecating  gesture,  and  sank 
back  to  an  attitude  of  waiting. 

Pierre  stared  on,  half  fascinated.  There  was  something 
sphinx-like  about  the  man,  —  a  gelatinous  sphinx,  not  quite 
congealed  into  certainty.  Ronsard  did  not  resent  the  stare. 
He  met  it  once  or  twice,  smiling,  with  slight  twinkles,  or,  to 
be  more  accurate,  slight  blinks,  of  his  small  pale  eyes.  He 
looked  now  as  if  he  might  soon  purr,  like  the  cat. 

"  Ah,"  he  murmured  at  length,  with  a  slight  upward  gesture 
of  one  hand.  "  The  servant-bell  again.  Your  chit,  Monsieur. 
A  hundred  francs  upon  it." 

"Done,"  said  Pierre.     He  too  listened  eagerly. 

As  they  wait,  in  listening  silence,  the  reader  may  as  well 
be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the  "  chit." 

In  all  foreign  communities  of  the  Far  East,  but  particularly 
in  those  where  English  influence  prevails,  three  hybrid  words 
become  part  of  the  daily  vocabulary.  The  first  is  "tiffin," 
the  second  "amah,"  the  third  and  most  important,  "chit." 

Doubtless  there  are  persons  who  know  the  origin  of  the 
last.  I  do  not.  Literally,  it  means  a  written  message  sent  by 
a  native  runner.  The  foreign  shops  in  the  Far  East  abound 
in  chit-books,  made,  most  of  them,  in  Manchester.  They  can 
be  found  in  paper,  cloth,  or  leather  bindings.  The  "  elite  " 
tend  toward  Russia  leather  with  a  crest  or  monogram  stamped 
in  gold.  Chit-books  are  to  social  life  what  check-books  are 
to  fiscal.  The  letter,  note,  or  present  comes  accompanied  by 
the  inevitable  "chit-book."  The  recipient  is  supposed  to  sign 
his  name,  and  the  hour,  as  in  a  telegram.  This  duty,  in 
point  of  fact,  is  very  soon  relegated  to  the  head  butler,  or 
the  ingratiating  "  amah,"  a  laxity  which  has  produced  more 
than  one  lawsuit  and  countless  domestic  scandals. 

Tsuna,  in  due  time,  appeared  with  a  large  black  leather 
book,  aggressively  and  odorously  new,  a  gold  spread-eagle  on 
the  back.  The  envelope  it  accompanied  was  large  and  blue. 
It  bore  Pierre's  name  in  the  clear  handwriting  of  Miss  Todd. 

The  count  signed  the  book  and  whispered  Tsuna  to  remain 
just  outside  the  door. 

Before  opening  the  new  missive,  Pierre  threw  himself  into  a 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       239 

chair,  his  face  turned  partly  away  from  Eonsard.  The  latter 
picked  up  a  rustling  Paris  newspaper,  and  over  its  quivering 
upper  edge  watched  the  smooth  cheek  of  Pierre,  his  left  ear, 
and  the  strip  of  pink  neck  showing  over  an  immaculate  collar. 
Out  of  the  folds  of  the  blue  letter  fell  a  smaller  one  of 
white.  This  was  addressed  to  Gwendolen.  At  sight  of  it  the 
young  man's  heart  gave  a  sick  throb.  He  hid  this  in  his  coat, 
until  the  other  should  have  been  read. 

"  I  send  you  this  note  of  Yuki's  in  the  original,  because  I  want  you 
to  see  more  in  the  changed  handwriting  than  in  the  formal  words.  I 
am  not  going  to  insult  you  by  trying  to  say  anything  now,  except  that 
I  am  sorry.  I  sympathize  with  your  trouble  more  deeply  than  you 
will,  perhaps,  believe.  Come  to  me  when  you  will.  I  shall  say  nothing 
but  kind  things.  It  is  a  wide  gulf  of  race  and  of  inherited  ideals 
between  you  and  Yuki.  No  love  could  hold  the  arch  of  a  bridge  quite 
so  wide.  But  remember  her  poor  little  aching  heart!  There!  lam, 
as  usual,  doing  just  what  I  vowed  I  would  n't  do.  Oh,  Pierre,  I 
am  sorry  for  you,  —  sorry,  sorry !  The  world  does  n't  seem  a  very 
bright  place,  this  morning,  does  it  ?  I  have  been  scolding  a  yama-buki 
bush  that  insists  upon  opening  in  our  garden;  but  the  flowers  just 
laugh  in  my  face.  It  is  an  unsympathetic  universe  !  Your  frieud, 

"  GWENDOLEN." 

Pierre  held  Yuki's  letter  long  before  reading  it.  A  breath, 
of  her  subtle  personality  must  have  clung  to  the  scrap,  for  he 
inhaled  from  it  a  new  bitterness,  a  new  anguish.  With  a 
groan  as  of  physical  suffering  he  threw  himself  forward,  put 
elbows  on  his  knees,  and  deliberately  forced  himself  to  read, 
in  rigid  silence,  the  following  note : 

"  MY  DEAR  GWENDOLEN,  who  has  been  my  only  sister,  — Your  tele- 
gram having  arrived,  and  Prince  Hagane  having  come  to  me  in  person 
to  speak  of  my  duties  and  the  opportunity  he  could  give  me  at  once  in 
this  time  of  trouble  and  war,  I  have  myself  willingly  consented  to  be 
his  wife.  I  am  forced  by  nobody.  You  do  not  think  badly  of  me  for 
this,  but  some  other  will  think  very  badly.  Oh,  please  to  speak  kind 
and  soothing  things  to  that  other.  His  grief  is  my  aching  always 
sorrow.  I  care  not  at  all  for  my  own,  but  I  care  very  much  for  hia. 
He  will  think  me  wicked  and  unfaithful  to  have  broke  so  solemn 
pledge,  but  at  the  time  of  breaking  I  did  not  seem  to  myself  wicked. 
We  do  not  know  how  things  sometimes  have  happened.  But  this  has 


240  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

now  happened  to  me.  Ask  him  to  forgive  me.  The  marriage  is  to  be 
held  very  soon ;  in  fact,  on  Wednesday  of  the  coming  week.  According 
to  Japanese  custom  I  must  now  be  very  secluded  until  that  ceremony, 
not  even  seeing  my  sister,  which  is  you.  I  believe  Prince  Hagane  is 
to  take  me  after  to  Kamakura.  I  do  not  care  where  he  take  me.  Oh, 
Gwendolen,  love  your  Yuki  and  pray  for  her  to  be  strong.  Always 
before  I  have  been  weak  at  a  crisis.  I  must  not  now  ever  be  weak. 
If  pity  can  be  held  toward  me  in  Pierre's  heart,  beseech  him  to  leave 
Nippon.  Your  strangely  feeling  but  loving, 

"  YUKI." 

He  let  the  sheet  flutter  sidewise  to  the  floor,  his  eyes  ab- 
sently following.  When  it  was  quite  still,  the  address  being 
uppermost,  he  leaned  nearer.  "  Miss  Gwendolen  Todd,  Ameri- 
can Legation,  Azabu,  Tokio,"  he  read,  his  lips  moving  as  he 
formed  the  words.  "Miss  Gwendolen  Todd,"  he  began,  di- 
rectly, reading  again  and  again.  A  hand  fell  gently  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Is  there  to  be  an  answer,  Pierre  ?  " 

Pierre  shook  his  head. 

"  You  will  retain  the  enclosed  letter  ?  " 

Pierre  nodded. 

The  count  went  tip-toeing  to  the  door,  and  returned  to 
Tsuna  the  pretentious  chit-book.  Pierre  was  apparently  fixed 
in  an  attitude  of  melancholy. 

"  Can  these  letters  have  told  you  anything  worse  ? "  ques- 
tioned the  gentle  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Pierre,  dully.  "  It  is  worse.  She  is  to  be  married 
next  Wednesday,  —  and  with  her  own  consent.  She  wishes  it. 
Next  Wednesday." 

Eonsard  did  not  answer.     He  was  trying  to  look  sad. 

"  Wednesday,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Pierre,  now  lifting  blood- 
shot eyes.  "Next  Wednesday!  Five  days  !  This  is  Friday, 
is  it  not  ?  Yes."  He  stopped  now  to  count  the  days  on  shaking 
fingers.  "  Five  more  days  and  she  will  be  his  wife.  That 
woman  I  love,  —  that  pure  flower  to  whom  even  my  honorable 
devotion  seemed  desecration  !  She  will  lie  in  that  old  man's 
arms,  —  she  will  be  his  wife !  God !  God  !  Man  ! "  he  screamed, 
striking  the  table  with  one  frantic  fist,  and  then  rising  to  hurl 
himself  in  torment  about  the  room,  "  don't  stand  there  screw- 
ing into  my  brain  with  your  fishy  eyes  !  Have  you  ever  known 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       241 

love  —  do  you  understand   jealousy  —  have  you  heard  of  — 
hell  ?  " 

"At  your  age  I  knew  all  three,"  said  Eonsard,  calmly.  "I 
went  through  all,  and  I  live,  I  eat,  I  intrigue,  I  am  happy.  So 
shall  it  be  with  you,  madman  ! " 

Pierre  threw  back  his  head  in  a  rude  clamor,  meant  for 
laughter.  He  was  passing  near  Ronsard  at  the  instant.  The 
elder  man  reached  out  and  caught  his  wrist.  "  Now,  Pierre 
Le  Beau,  stand  still  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say  ! " 

At  the  tone  of  command,  rather  than  the  physical  detention, 
Pierre  stood  still,  wondering. 

"  This  is  the  best  thing  that  could  possibly  happen  to  you. 
Yes,  be  quiet.  You  shall  listen.  I  've  endured  sufficient  child- 
ish railing  for  one  day  !  It  is  infinitely  the  best  thing  for  you 
—  for  your  mother  —  for  me  —  for  France  !  I  have  a  diplo- 
matic secret  to  whisper.  That  old  man  Hagane  — for  once  in 
his  life  a  fool  —  may  be  sent  at  any  moment  to  review  the 
campaign  in  Manchuria.  He  and  his  generals  may  be  great,  but 
Kuropatkin  is  greater.  Do  you  know  what  that  may  mean  to 
you  ?  Ah,  I  thought  so ;  at  the  hope  of  some  personal  reward 
you  flicker  back  to  sanity.  What  are  the  honor  and  glory  of 
France  to  such  effete  sensualists  as  you  ?  Bah,  —  it  sickens  me ! 
And  yet,  since  some  day  you  may  become  men,  you  must  be 
dealt  with.  Hagane,  in  his  supreme  self-confidence,  urged  on, 
doubtless,  by  Onda,  dares  marry  this  youug  girl,  though  he 
knows  her  to  be  in  love  with  you !  Will  you  destroy  her  love, 
fool,  by  smothering  it  in  her  contempt?  Hagane  goes  to  Man- 
churia. His  young  wife  mourns,  —  helas  !  I  see  her  weeping 
in  his  absence.  There  are  secrets  spoken  in  the  nuptial 
chamber,  —  documents  left  in  charge  of  the  pretty  chatelaine. 
Pierre,  Pierre,  celestial  revenge  hangs  like  ripe  fruit  to  your 
hand,  let  her  marry  Hagane,  —  let  her  love  you !  Do  not  revile 
or  scorn  her.  Wait  —  wait !  " 

His  eyes,  twinkling  like  those  of  a  snake,  crawled  up  Pierre's 
face  to  his  shrinking  gaze.  His  fat  hand  still  clutched  with  a 
grasp  that  burned.  Pierre  tried  to  draw  away.  Again  the 
repulsion,  the  fascination  in  this  man  battled  for  his  reason. 
"  Wait !  "  whispered  Ronsard  once  again,  and  turned. 

Pierre  felt  himself  released.     He  stood  motionless.     His 

16 


242  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

wrist  stung  as  if  a  sea  nettle  had  lashed  it.  He  looked  help- 
lessly around  as  though  searching  for  something  he  could  not 
recall.  His  eyes  fell  on  Yuki's  letter.  He  staggered  toward 
it,  snatched  it  from  the  floor,  pressed  it  against  parched  lips, 
and  then,  falling  on  his  knees  beside  the  chair,  burst  into  a 
passion  of  grief. 

"^Come,"  whispered  Konsard  to  the  cat.  "  Come,  che>ie. 
We  will  leave  poor  Pierre  awhile.  It  is  more  delicate,  n'est-ce 
pas  ?  " 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

IT  was  inevitable  that  a  lady  of  Mrs.  Todd's  social  and 
confidential  temperament  should  already  have  acquired  an 
inseparable  friend.  Mrs.  Todd  had  a  perpetual  thirst  for 
what  she  called  "  sympathetic  comprehension,"  by  which  she 
meant,  in  reality,  abject  flattery.  Her  husband  sometimes 
treated  her  deepest  emotions  with  levity.  Gwendolen  often 
turned  to  her  complaints  a  bright  indifference  more  irritating 
than  the  husband's  soothing  smile. 

The  present  incumbent  was  a  Mrs.  Stunt,  resident  in  Tsu- 
kiji,  Tokio,  wife  of  an  American  merchant  who  had  lived  in 
Japan  for  nearly  twenty  years.  Naturally,  Mrs.  Stunt  knew 
everything.  She  was  a  little  woman,  with  white  hair  brushed 
high  from  a  smooth,  pink  forehead.  Her  face  was  round  and 
youthful.  Although  not  an  Englishwoman  she  exuded  odors 
of  pink  soap.  Her  eyes  were  blue,  bright,  and  hard  as  glass. 
Her  reputation  was  that  of  a  model  wife  and  mother,  a  pattern 
housekeeper,  and  an  exemplary  member  of  the  church.  People 
hastened  to  speak  well  of  her ;  they  raised  loud  voices  in 
her  praise,  yet  every  one  knew  that  Mrs.  Stunt,  when  mounted 
upon  the  perfectly  kept  bicycle  she  affected,  was  a  wheeled 
and  leaking  reservoir  of  scandal. 

To  the  new-comer,  or  the  casual  observer,  she  appeared  the 
very  incarnation  of  trustful  candor,  speaking  of  her  domestic 
affairs  and  those  of  her  neighbors  with  a  simplicity  and  direct- 
ness that  startled  while  they  convinced.  Mrs.  Stunt,  however, 
had  her  secrets.  One  of  these,  unshared  even  by  the  conjugal 
ear  of  timid  Mr.  Stunt,  was  her  connection,  —  virtually  that  of 
foreign  editor,  —  with  a  Tokio  newspaper,  called,  of  course  in 
Japanese  terms,  "  The  Hawk's  Eye."  In  addition  to  volu- 
minous printed  sheets  of  hurrying  ideographs  this  journal 
dispensed  each  day  a  page  of  excellent  English,  and  for  weekly 
supplement  issued  a  pamphlet  entirely  in  the  borrowed 


244  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

tongue.  Mrs.  Stunt  was  never  seen  to  enter  the  shabby  gates 
of  the  "Hawk's  Eye"  building.  She  turned  her  face  away 
even  in  passing  the  place.  She  often  denounced  newspaper 
women,  and,  more  than  once  in  the  company  of  a  friend  who 
tingled  or  wept  under  the  lash  of  a  personal  item,  joined  in 
indignation  against  the  cowardly  villain,  and  wondered  aloud, 
"  Who  on  earth  that  man  could  be  !  " 

The  very  brief  notice  of  Lord  Hagane's  coming  marriage, 
tucked  away  in  important  Japanese  papers  like  a  small  spark 
in  a  chimney,  might  have  been  altogether  overlooked,  for 
news  of  war  came  in  daily,  and  political  excerpts  from  Euro- 
pean papers  took  much  space.  But  "  The  Hawk's  Eye  "  found 
that  smouldering  spark,  the  mysterious  breath  of  the  foreign 
editor  blew  it  into  new  heat,  piling  tinder  of  comment  high 
about  it,  fanned  it  with  the  wind  of  gentle  persistency,  and 
lo,  the  social  world  of  Tokio  leaped  into  flames ! 

Long  since,  the  demure  little  lady,  —  having  in  mind  spring 
clothes  for  four  lanky  daughters,  —  had  extracted  from  her 
new  intimate,  saleable  particulars  concerning  Pierre's  be- 
trothal, Onda's  persecution,  and  now  Yuki's  forced  acceptance 
of  Prince  Hagaue.  "Nonsense,  my  dear,"  had  Mrs.  Stunt 
retorted  to  this  concluding  bit  of  romanticism.  "Japanese 
girls  don't  give  a  fig  who  they  marry !  For  a  catch  like  old 
Hagane  your  Yuki  would  have  thrown  over  a  dozen  spry 
young  Frenchmen,  blue  eyes  and  all." 

From  the  first  instant  of  meeting  Mrs.  Stunt  and  Gwen- 
dolen had  been  inimical.  To  herself  Gwendolen  had  called 
the  little  lady  a  "bargain-counter  snob."  In  return  Mrs. 
Stunt,  keenly  aware  of  the  impression  she  had  produced  and 
resentful  of  it  as  people  usually  are  of  truth,  began  assorting 
items  for  the  coming  Saturday  "  Hawk's  Eye."  Gwendolen's 
affair  with  Dodge,  their  quarrel,  his  immediate  transfer  of 
outward  devotion  to  the  shrine  of  Carmen  Gil  y  Niestra,  and 
Gwendolen's  irritability  ever  since  the  disagreement,  were  as 
bill-boards  to  the  mental  gaze  of  Mrs.  Stunt.  Kindly  inju- 
dicious Mrs.  Todd  did  not  betray  her  daughter.  There  was  no 
need  for  it.  When  she  wept  above  a  "  Hawk's  Eye  "  para- 
graph that  called  her  idol  a  "raw  Western  heiress,  who 
naturally  cultivated  her  acquaintance  with  ploughs  and 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       245 

harrows,"  it  was  the  part  of  Mrs.  Stunt  to  comfort  her.  That 
small  lady,  sitting  near  some  more  generous  and  less  judicious 
female  friend,  her  eyes  drooping  tenderly  over  a  "  pinafore  for 
Nan,"  or  a  knitted  sock  for  "  Baby  Tom,"  absorbed  scandal 
as  a  sponge  absorbs  warm  water. 

Yet  let  us  be  just.  Too  much  may  have  been  ascribed  to 
Mrs.  Stunt.  Perhaps  even  without  her  thrifty  and  unfriendly 
zeal  the  marriage  of  so  great  a  lord  as  Hagane  must  inevitably 
have  filled  the  papers  and  overflowed  in  irresponsible  wide 
tides  of  talk.  Yet  scarcely  without  her  would  Pierre's  hinted 
personality  have  been  so  openly  involved,  his  parentage  stated, 
and  his  future  course  of  action  philosophized  about.  The 
story  in  its  parent  "  Hawk's  Eye  "  was  given  with  a  wealth  of 
imaginative  detail  possible  only  to  the  born  "  society  reporter." 
In  substance  it  was  as  follows:  Miss  Onda  had  come  from 
America  with  the  Todds.  With  their  approbation  she  had 
been  openly  betrothed,  in  Washington,  to  a  young  French- 
man of  pleasing  appearance  and  high  connections.  (Here  a 
secret  marriage,  twisted  about  an  interrogation  mark,  found 
place.)  When  asked  for  his  blessing  the  Japanese  father, 
hitherto  unsuspicious  of  French  designs,  fell  into  a  fit,  out 
of  which  three  eminent  physicians  were  required  to  haul 
him.  Yuki  was  forbidden  to  hold  communication  with  her 
lover.  The  next  step  was  to  adorn  her  in  sacrificial  and  be- 
coming robes  and  offer  her  in  marriage,  —  or  anything  else, 
—  to  a  certain  powerful  nobleman,  whose  third  wife,  —  or  was 
it  really  his  sixth  ?  —  had  recently,  by  a  fortuitous  occur- 
rence, been  "returned."  Touched  by  the  sorrow  of  his 
faithful  knight,  and  influenced  perhaps  by  the  lackadaisical 
beauty  of  the  girl,  the  nobleman  agreed  to  take  her  on  trial, 
even  going  through  the  form  of  a  legal  marriage,  that  the 
aspirations  of  the  French  lover  might  be  the  more  certainly 
destroyed.  Pierre,  who  read  and  brooded  morbidly  on  these 
things,  was  neither  soothed  nor  ennobled  thereby.  But  what 
of  it  ?  Mrs.  Stunt's  four  lanky  daughters  each  had  a  new 
spring  dress  with  hats  to  match  ! 

Japanese  of  the  better  class,  brushing  aside  like  gnats  these 
stinging  personalities,  approved  openly  of  the  father's  conduct 
and  of  Yuki's  swift  acquiescence.  It  was  the  only  thing  con- 


246  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

ceivable.  Their  only  blame  for  Yuki  was  that  she  had  listened 
to  a  foreigner  without  first  obtaining  her  father's  approbation, 
an  encouragement  that  might  now  urge  him  to  be  troublesome. 
They  felt  indignant  that  the  rejected  one  should  continue  to 
repine  for  what  a  Japanese  prince  had  deigned  to  accept.  Old 
samurai  blood  grew  warm.  The  daughter  of  Onda  Tetsujo 
marry  a  Frenchman  with  a  Russian  mother !  The  very  gods 
held  their  Asiatic  noses. 

English  and  American  men  took,  for  the  most  part,  the 
Japanese  view.  Many  Europeans,  on  the  contrary,  said  openly 
that  they  hoped  Le  Beau  would  yet  "  get  even "  with  old 
Hagane  for  stealing  his  sweetheart.  With  few  exceptions, 
indeed,  all  women  sympathized  with  Pierre.  Pierre  was  the 
beau  ideal  of  a  despairing  lover.  His  sensitive,  beautiful  face 
took  on  with  ease  the  lines  of  sleepless  grief.  His  blue  eyes, 
at  a  moment's  warning,  could  darken  from  melancholy  to  tragic 
anguish.  He  could  sigh  in  such  a  manner  that  his  quivering 
listeners,  should  Donne  happen  to  be  familiar,  might  have 
quoted,  "  When  thou  so  sighest  thou  sighest  not  wind,  thou 
sighest  my  soul  away."  Pierre's  sorrow  was  genuine  enough, 
but  he  liked  witnesses  to  his  grief.  Needless  to  say  that  Mrs. 
Todd  and  her  satellite  Stunt  were  among  Pierre's  most  vocif- 
erous supporters.  Gwendolen  fought  many  a  battle  for  her 
school-friend,  but  the  bitterest  were  pitched  under  her  own 
roof. 

"  Now,  my  very  dear  Miss  Todd,"  expostulated  the  "  Hawk's 
Eye,"  "do  you  not  consider  at  all  the  misery  of  Monsheer 
Le  Beau  ?  Miss  Onda  is  to  be  a  princess,  happy,  courted,  with 
a  position  in  the  highest  circles.  Life  can  offer  her  no  more. 
On  the  other  hand  look  at  the  jilted  lover.  I  never  saw  a  face 
that  expressed  such  patient  grief.  When  he  turns  to  .me 
those  slow,  beautiful  blue  eyes  I  '11  declare  I  feel  as  if  I  'd 
.like  to  kill  that  girl  for  making  him  suffer." 

"Pooh!"  said  Gwendolen,  rudely;  "and  when  he  slowly 
turns  them  round  to  me  I  want  to  open  my  parasol  and  say 
'  Shoo ! '  thinking  it  a  cow.  I  like  Pierre  well  enough.  A  good 
deal  better  than  you,  I  think,  if  the  truth  were  known,  but 
he  is  among  men  what  Chopin  is  among  musicians.  He  enjoys 
his  sufferings  and  makes  music  out  of  them.  Of  course  you 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       247 

would  n't  understand  that."  Rudely  she  wheeled  and  walked 
away,  Mrs.  Stunt  following  with  venomous  eyes. 

Gwendolen  scarcely  recognized  herself  during  these  days  of 
trial.  She,  the  joyous  one,  the  sun-maid,  now  wished  to  quarrel 
with  the  whole  world.  Of  course  Dodge's  defection,  and  the 
ridiculous  paragraphs  appearing  in  "The  Hawk's  Eye,"  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  nervous  condition.  The  causes  were 
obvious,  —  Yuki's  hurried  marriage  and  Pierre's  mischievous 
pose  of  despair. 

Meanwhile  the  absurdities  of  gossip  increased.  Once,  stung 
beyond  endurance,  the  girl  threw  herself  into  her  father's 
arms.  "  Dad,  how  shall  I  endure  these  spreading  slanders 
about  my  friend  ?  Is  there  nothing  we  can  do,  —  nobody  to 
shoot,  or  challenge,  or  anything  like  that  ?  " 

"  Go  fire  at  those  sparrows  on  the  lawn." 

"Don't  joke.  I  can't  stand  it.  Oh,  father,  you  don't  know 
what  awful  things  they  whisper.  They  stop  when  I  come  near, 
saying  it  is  because  'I'm  not  yet  married.'  Now  just  think 
of  the  pitchy  subtlety  of  that.  Why  should  people  talk  so  ?  " 

Todd  held  her  close.  "  My  little  girl,"  he  began,  "  wher- 
ever lonely,  sour-hearted  women  —  or  men  —  congregate,  there 
will  the  cancer-growth  of  scandal  spread.  They  are  the  dis- 
seminators of  half  our  domestic  tragedies.  It  is  a  disease  like 
other  foul  things,  —  cancer  itself,  leprosy,  diphtheria,  —  though 
not  so  fatal,  for  the  thing  they  tackle  is  a  man's  soul  and 
character,  immortal  essences,  never  to  be  truly  tarnished  but 
from  within.  As  I  figure  it  out,  scandal  is  a  good  deal  like 
fungus.  It  may  be  planted  anywhere,  but  it  sticks  and  thrives 
only  where  it  finds  a  rotten  spot." 

"  Oh,  you  help  me,  dad,  — you  do  help  me.  Of  course  these 
rumors  cannot  hurt  the  white  heart  of  my  darling,  —  but  she 
must  not  hear  them.  One  question  more,  daddy  —  " 

Todd  stopped  her.  "  It  is  mail-morning,  and  that  means  a 
busy  one.  You  've  had  a  sermon  long  enough  for  one  day. 
Come  to  think  of  it,  why  does  Dodge  get  out  of  the  way  when 
you  appear  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  to  my  secretary  ?  " 

Gwendolen  gave  a  small  gasp  and  vanished.  Todd  looked 
after  her.  "I  thought  that  would  send  her  flying."  He 
turned  to  his  desk.  His  face  was  very  tender.  "  Poor  little 


248  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

one,"  he  murmured,  "she's  up  against  her  first  experiences 
all  in  a  bunch.  God  help  her  !  Things  hurt  worse  when  we 
are  young.  But  all  will  come  right,  with  His  hejp.  I  know 
my  child  was  made  for  happiness.  She  has  the  hall-mark  of 
it  under  her  skin.  But  Yuki —  poor  little  Yuki  — !"  He 
shook  his  head,  seated  himself,  and  soon  became  lost  in  the 
voluminous  foreign  mail. 

Yuki,  pale,  white,  and  docile,  moved  like  a  determined 
ghost  through  vistas  of  gray  hours.  In  that  quiet  household 
came  [no  hint  of  scandal,  and  for  Yuki's  part,  had  she  heard, 
she  would  not  have  greatly  cared.  The  first  brief  chapter  of 
her  life  was  gone,  shut  down,  like  a  book, 'and  in  its  pages  was 
the  living  flower  of  her  love.  She  did  not  suffer  now.  She 
felt  a  dull  gladness  that  she  was  inevitably  committed  to 
her  duty.  Temptation  and  further  striving  had  vanished 
from  her  days.  Except  for  the  sorrow  of  that  dear  one 
there  would  be  no  regret.  What  anguish  came  personally, 
through  remorse  for  her  broken  faith,  she  would  be  glad  to 
bear.  She  had,  through  faithlessness,  won  the  level  of  a 
higher  faith.  Let  her  wounds  gape  and  her  heart's  blood  fall 
like  rain  !  She  wished  to  feel  more  sorrow  than  she  felt,  but 
nothing  came  very  clearly  in  these  days  of  preparation.  More 
than  once  she  thought,  with  a  tiny  pang  of  apprehension, 
"  If  I  have  lost  the  power  to  feel  pain,  then  are  sacrifice  and 
duty  alike  robbed  of  their  essential  oil." 

Now,  in  place  of  averted  faces  and  blank  eyes,  those  of  the 
Onda  household  fawned  about  her.  Onda  made  grim  over- 
tures. The  giggling  of  Maru  San  ceased  only  with  her 
slumber  —  that,  too,  was  audible  —  while  old  Suzume,  darting 
about  the  rooms  like  a  gray  ferret,  babbled  out  the  many 
titles  that  her  nursling  soon  would  wear,  and  made  coarse 
jests  and  prophecies  about  the  future. 

Iriya  alone  moved  in  the  silence  of  her  daughter's  spirit. 
The  two  women  grew  very  close,  though  no  spoken  word  was 
used  to  show  it. 

Wednesday,  the  marriage  day,  arrived  softly.  Yuki  neither 
dreaded  nor  welcomed  it.  She  had  not  seen  Prince  Hagane 
since  the  night  he  took  her  answer.  Quite  a  number  of  her 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       249 

parents'  relatives,  some  from  distant  provinces,  came  in  and 
gathered  in  the  house  to  bid  the  bride  farewell,  to  throw, 
laughingly,  the  dried  peas  after  her,  to  sweep  the  abandoned 
dwelling  to  its  farthest  corner,  and  light  a  bonfire  at  the  gate 
when  she  passed  through. 

Yuki,  in  her  white  bridal  robes  and  concealing  veil  of  white 
silk,  thin  in  texture  but  stiffened  in  a  way  that  brought  it  into 
angular  folds  about  her  shoulders,  stepped  alone  into  a  new 
jinrikisha.  Tetsujo  and  Iriya,  in  a  double  vehicle,  followed. 
These  three  alone  went  to  Tabata,  where  they  met  a  corre- 
sponding party  of  the  same  small  number,  Prince  Hagane,  his 
nearest  male  relative,  the  old  Duke  Shirota,  and  young 
Princess  Sada-ko,  the  old  duke's  granddaughter. 

Hagane  was  unmistakably  preoccupied.  His  thoughts  did 
not  attach  themselves  with  ease  to  things  or  persons.  He 
had  an  air  of  relief  when  the  short  ceremony  came  to  an 
end.  Yuki  now  changed  her  white  robe  for  a  dark-hued  silk, 
superb  in  texture,  the  gift,  according  to  Japanese  etiquette, 
of  her  husband.  A  hairdresser  was  in  readiness  to  change 
forever  the  wide  loops  of  a  girl's  coiffure  into  the  more 
elaborate  structure  of  a  young  matron.  The  Princess  Sada-ko 
fluttered  near,  talking  prettily  and  congratulating  herself  on 
the  acquisition  of  a  new  relative.  Yuki  scarcely  heard  her. 
She  felt  almost  nothing.  As  the  last  touch  came,  the  thrust- 
ing-in  of  a  great  tortoise-shell  pin,  she  shuddered  very  slightly, 
thinking  of  that  ivory  one  broken  with  Pierre  Le  Beau  on  the 
moonlit  prow  of  a  ship. 

With  a  great  clattering  and  stamping  the  Hagane  coach  of 
ceremony  -drew  up  to  the  entrance-door.  Magnificent  gray 
horses  in  new  trappings  snorted  impatience  to  be  off.  ?  Hagane 
stepped  in  without  a  word  to  Yuki,  who,  at  a  nudge  from  the 
little  princess,  meekly  followed.  The  domestic  retinue  fell  on 
its  knees  in  the  doorway  and  along  the  pebbled  drive.  Hagane 
gave  the  order,  "  Shimbashi,"  waved  a  hand  abstractedly,  and 
the  equipage  dashed  away. 

•  The  short  railway  journey  was  made  practically  in  silence. 
Hagane  said  once,  as  if  by  way  of  explanation,  "  Important 
and  somewhat  alarming  news  has  come  by  secret  wire  to-day. 
It  is  necessary  for  me  to  ponder  over  it." 


250  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"  Honorably  do  not  concern  your  august  mind  with  a  person 
so  insignificant,"  said  Yuki.  Far  from  resenting  his  silence, 
the  girl  was  thankful  to  be  left  to  herself.  She  watched  the 
scenes  outside  with  eyes  at  first  vague  and  unintelligent,  but 
which  soon  gained  a  soft,  increasing  brightness.  Earth  was 
waking  from  its  long  sleep.  Yuki  felt  what  many  of  her  own 
and  other  races  have  in  such  crises  felt,  —  a  gratitude  to  na- 
ture that  human  grief  is  given  no  part  in  it.  The  grass  still  is 
busy,  small  waxen  blossoms  lift  the  leaves  of  a  fallen  year,  no 
matter  what  men  may  suffer.  In  moments  of  keen  personal 
bereavement,  when  the  soul  is  dazed  and  blinded  by  the  won- 
der of  its  agony,  a  certain  resentment  comes.  Like  the  Ayr- 
shire poet  we  cry,  "How  can  ye  be  so  fresh  and  fair  ? "  But 
such  grief  was  not  yet  Yuki's.  Her  emotion  still  partook  more 
of  bewilderment  than  loss.  Pierre  was  not  dead.  He  might 
yet  be  happy,  happier  than  with  her.  This  thought  brought 
no  personal  sting.  Hers  was  not  a  nature  for  jealousy. 

Because  of  her  marriage,  through  this  stern,  grave  man  who 
sat  beside  her,  she  was  to  be  given  her  opportunity  for  loyal 
service.  Mistrust  of  self,  apprehensions  that  mocked  and 
taunted  her,  a  certain  shrinking  from  responsibilities  so 
thickly  heaped,  rushed  inevitably  to  her  mind.  On  the  other 
hand  she  had  for  guidance  his  great  spirit  of  untarnished 
patriotism ;  she  had  vindicated  to  her  parents  all  filial  obliga- 
tion, and  springtime  peeped  at  her  from  among  the  hills. 

She  saw  that  a  thousand  nameless,  beloved  little  flowers 
traced  with  bright  enamelling  the  leaden  dykes  of  fields. 
Seedling  rice  brimmed  with  gold-green,  small,  separate  pools. 
Straw-shod  farmers  trampled,  one  by  one,  the  rotting  stubs  of 
last  year's  crop  into  the  slime  of  fields  to  be  new-planted.  On 
low-thatched  huts  the  old  leaves  of  the  roof-lilies  fed  a  spring- 
ing growth.  Everywhere  decay  passed  visibly  into  re-birth. 
So,  thought  little  Yuki,  "  The  very  sorrow  I  have  endured  shall 
feed  my  new  resolves." 

At  the  small  Kamakura  station  jinrikishas  were  awaiting 
them,  accompanied  by  two  persons,  an  old  man  and  a  comely 
woman  of  the  peasant  class,  whom  Yuki  rightly  took  for  fam- 
ily servants.  They  prostrated  themselves  upon  the  cement 
floor  in  an  excess  of  demonstration,  whispering  old-fashioned 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       251 

phrases  of  congratulation  and  of  welcome.  Hagane  came  back 
for  an  instant  to  things  around  him. 

"  These  are  my  faithful  servants,  Bunshichi  and  his  daughter. 
I  do  not  now  recall  her  name,"  said  he  to  Yuki,  with  his  kind 
smile.  "  They  form  our  entire  domestic  retinue  at  Kamakura, 
for  it  is  here  that  I  come  only  when  in  need  of  true  repose  and 
relaxation." 

"  Hai !  hai !  Daima-San,"  cried  the  servants  in  polite  cor- 
roboration,  and  began  a  new  series  of  deep  bows. 

"  Hai !  "  murmured  Yuki,  as  if  in  echo  of  their  subservience. 
The  woman,  for  an  instant,  met  her  young  mistress's  eyes. 
There  was  something  in  the  look  of  wonder,  of  great  kindness, 
and  then,  —  or  so  it  seemed  to  Yuki,  —  of  compassion. 

Hagane  entered  his  kuruma  and  started  off.  Yuki  and  the 
two  servants  followed.  And  so,  on  this  fair  March  day,  the 
little  Princess  Hagane  approached  the  first  of  her  many  new 
homes. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

THE  Hagane  villa  at  Kamakura  possessed  its  own  green 
niche  cut  deep  into  encroaching  hills,  its  own  curved  scimitar 
of  gray  sea-beach,  its  individual  rocks,  its  blue  ocean,  and 
bluer  sky.  A  fence  of  dead  bamboo  branches,  set  up  on  end 
like  fagots,  barred  out  spying  curiosity.  The  house  faced 
directly  to  the  sand.  On  the  three  remaining  sides  the  hill- 
slopes  made  retreating  walls.  Upon  them  grew  spindling, 
wind-tossed  pines  and  loops  of  wild  white  clematis  and  of 
rose. 

Through  the  big,  fragrant  rooms  of  the  villa  all  day  the  sea- 
winds  passed,  stirring  the  few  kakemono,  and  making  flowers 
in  bronze  vases  nod  like  those  more  securely  rooted  on  the 
hills.  No  attempt  had  been  made  at  an  ornamental  garden, 
except  for  a  few  great,  gray  stones  spread  with  a  lichen 
sparkling  from  its  diet  of  salty  dew,  three  curious  small 
pines,  and  spaces  of  white  sand.  The  placing  of  these  trees 
and  stones  hinted  of  more  organic  beauty  than  all  the  convo- 
lutions of  the  average  Occidental  millionnaire's  park.  It  is 
only  fair  to  add  that  the  millionnaire  would  not  agree  to  this. 

The  first  two  hours  after  arrival  were  devoted  by  Prince 
Hagane  to  the  writing  of  telegrams  and  letters.  These  were 
sent  off  by  messengers  as  soon  as  finished.  The  statesman 
strode  out  alone  to  the  shore  and  walked  there,  his  head 
bent  in  meditation,  until  telegraphic  answers  began  to  arrive. 
These  apparently  bore  reassuring  news.  He  sought  out  Yuki, 
his  sleeves  quite  stiff  with  crumpled  missives,  and  told  her 
that  already  he  had  arranged  his  affairs  so  that  he  could  have 
two  days  to  belong  to  himself  alone.  "  Unless  some  un- 
foreseen matter  of  gravest  importance  should  transpire,"  he 
added,  "  I  shall  not  be  disturbed.  I  shall  give  orders  to  Bun- 
shichi  to  bring  me  no  letters  that  do  not  bear  the  Imperial 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       253 

seal.  And  now,  my  child,"  here  he  seated  himself  near  her, 
"  I  may  be  permitted  to  recall  the  fact  that  I  have  a  wife." 

For  two  days  Yuki  was  seldom  out  of  his  sight.  The  shrink- 
ing, delicate,  humble,  exquisite  thing,  now  so  entirely  his  own, 
fed  his  stern  eyes  and  heart  with  ever-deepening  satisfaction. 
Her  pallor,  her  reticence,  even  the  strained  smile  which  she 
sometimes  turned  to  meet  his  words,  were  all  as  best  he  liked 
to  have  them.  An  arrogant,  self-assertive  bride  is,  to  the 
Japanese,  an  inhuman  monster. 

On  the  third  morning  Bunshichi  brought  him  with  his 
breakfast  the  accumulated  mail  of  the  two  days.  At  sight 
of  the  great  heap  he  sent  a  quizzical  glance  to  Yuki.  "It 
appears,  small  sweet  one,"  he  remarked,  "that  I  am  to  have 
no  more  hours  of  happy  indolence." 

Before  the  first  ten  were  read  Yuki  knew  herself  forgotten. 
Her  bruised  soul  stirred  within  her  like  a  wounded  thing 
recalled  to  animation.  She  started  violently  at  his  next  loud 
words.  "  I  take  the  earliest  train  to  Tokio.  Have  my  kuruma 
waiting."  His  voice  was  that  of  a  master,  not  a  lover. 

Yuki  rose  swiftly.  At  the  kitchen-step  she  paused,  threw 
back  her  head,  and  took  in  a  few  long,  long  breaths.  The  ser- 
vants below  waited,  open-mouthed,  for  her  orders.  Meta's 
kind  voice  recalled  her. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  August  Mistress  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Meta  —  I  was  thinking  —  I  forgot.  The  master 
takes  the  next  train  to  Tokio.  When  does  that  train  start  ?  " 

Meta's  eye  consulted  the  Waterbury  clock.  "In  twenty 
minutes,  Mistress.  Perhaps  the  Illustrious  One  will  not  wish 
to  hasten  so  swiftly." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  desires  to  go  at  once.  Go  quickly,  Bun- 
shichi, call  a  kuruma  with  two  runners.  Our  master  is  a 
heavy  man." 

Her  commission  filled,  Yuki  returned  slowly  to  the  room 
where  her  husband  still  sat  reading  letters.  On  the  way  a 
thought  smote  her.  "  Your  Highness,  the  train  in  twenty 
minutes  honorably  departs.  Your  kuruma  will  be  in  readi- 
ness. Was  it  your  august  intention  that  I  should  accompany 
you?" 

Hagane  looked  up  at  her  in  a  sort  of  half-recognition. 


254  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"  You  ?  Accompany  ?  No,  of  course  not.  I  would  not  have 
the  time  to  give  you.  In  a  few  days  more,  perhaps.  Put 
those  scattered  letters  and  papers  into  a  leathern  portfolio. 
Bunshichi  will  know  what  else  I  need.  How  fortunate  that 
a  train  goes  so  soon ! " 

Between  this  and  the  starting  moment  he  had  for  her  neither 
look  nor  word.  Just  as  he  stepped,  however,  into  the  vehicle, 
he  turned  as  with  sudden,  loving  remembrance,  and  leaning 
far  down  to  her  said,  "  These  days  have  been  as  the  heavenly 
island  of  Horai  set  in  a  sea  of  raging  politics.  You  are  a 
docile  and  obedient  wife.  So  shall  I  inform  your  father." 

When  he  had  really  gone,  and  even  the  heavy  clink  of  jin- 
rikisha  wheels  on  sand  was  no  longer  audible,  Yuki  lifted  her 
head,  brushed  back  the  low  fall  of  hair  from  her  forehead,  stared 
at  the  quiet  sea  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  and  walked  back 
slowly  into  the  house.  For  a  few  moments  she  wavered,  paus- 
ing now,  now  walking  swiftly,  now  looking  about  as  for  some- 
thing she  had  lost.  In  such  broken,  indeterminate  angles  of 
advance  she  reached  a  little  chamber  quite  remote  from  the 
rest,  a  closet  darkened  by  nearness  of  a  rising  cliff.  Here  she 
stopped  short.  A  physical  shudder  ran  through  the  length  of 
her.  She  moaned,  bit  her  lips  back  into  silence,  pressed  sud- 
denly white  hands  upon  her  vacant  eyes,  and  then,  failing  all 
at  once,  fell  to  the  matting,  and  lay,  face  down,  along  its  pallid 
surface.  At  last  —  at  last  —  for  a  few  hours  at  least  this 
tortured  smile,  this  self-inflicted  strain  could  be  shaken  off 
and  she,  like  a  driven  beast  of  burden,  could  lie  still,  to  die,  to 
moan,  or  slowly  to  gather  back  what  remained  of  endurance. 
Her  thoughts  buzzed  confusedly  like  a  great  swarm  of  bees 
whose  nest  has  been  taken. 

Through  the  sweet  spring  day  she  lay  prone,  inanimate, 
stirring  only  at  a  passing  sting  of  consciousness.  "  My  country 
—  my  Emperor ! "  once  she  moaned  aloud.  "  0  Kwannon 
the  Merciful!  0  my  Christian  God! — must  I  live,  can  I 
endure  it?  Already  I  am  cowed  and  broken.  Shall  I  ever 
again  look  a  flower  in  the  face  ?  " 

More  than  once  the  kind-hearted  maid-servant  knelt  beside 
her,  urging  food  and  drink,  or  a  walk  into  the  reviving  air. 
Yuki  seemed  not  to  hear.  After  one  such  unsuecessful  excur- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       255 

sion,  Meta  returned  to  the  kitchen,  shaking  her  head.  "  They 
have  married  that  beautiful  young  maiden  to  our  august  yet 
somewhat  ancient  master,  and  her  heart's  love  dies  within  her 
for  another.  Oh,  I  know  well  enough !  "  she  cried,  with  a  touch 
of  defiance,  as  her  father  lifted  bleared,  protesting  eyes ;  "  so 
was  I  bartered  to  the  wicked  man  who  beat  me  and  drove 
me  forth.  I  may  be  of  low  estate,  but  I  know  a  woman's 
heart." 

"  Then  you  know  the  seat  of  folly,"  grumbled  the  old  man. 
"  When  your  husband  drove  you  out,  I  suppose  he  had  reason ; 
I  received  you,  didn't  I?  —  I  allow  you  still  to  call  me 
father  —  " 

"Yes,  and  do  all  your  work  and  mine  too  for  it,"  muttered 
the  •woman. 

"  As  for  our  young  mistress,"  went  on  the  old  man,  ignoring 
this  last  impertinence,  "all  know  her  for  the  most  fortunate 
young  woman  in  this  empire  and,  therefore,  in  the  world.  Is 
she  not  lawfully  married  to  the  richest  and  most  powerful  of 
lords,  to  Prince  Hagane  ?  " 

Meta  seated  herself  on  a  low  bench  and  began  to  clean  the 
fish  for  dinner.  "Yes,  father,"  she  answered  at  length,  "and 
this  newly  snared  fish  whose  honorable  insides  I  am  preparing 
to  remove  is  to  be  eaten  by  that  same  rich  and  powerful  lord. 
Does  that  make  the  knife  in  its  belly  less  sharp  ?  " 

The  round  sun  was  bisected  by  a  western  hill-top  pine  when 
Meta  knelt  again  beside  her  mistress.  "August  Lady,  you 
must  listen.  A  telegram  has  arrived." 

Yuki  sat  up  instantly.  She  had  begun  to  tremble.  Her 
hair,  now  disordered,  fell  about  an  ashen  face.  "  Has  my 
master  come  ?  "  she  cried,  a  wild  look  flashing  into  her  eyes, 
but  lapsing  almost  immediately  into  dulness.  She  put  up 
both  hands  and  spread  wide  the  night-black  wings  of  her  hair. 
Meta  drew  down  one  little  hand  and  thrust  the  telegram  be- 
tween its  fingers.  "  Oh,  a  telegram,"  said  Yuki,  embarrassed. 

"  Why  did  you  not  mention  —  perhaps  Lord  Hagane  will 
not  come  back  to-night."  She  read  the  few  words  carefully. 
Again  that  faint,  sickening  throb  of  relief  passed  over  her. 
She  lifted  her  head  and  met  the  woman's  eyes  as  she  said, 
trying  to  seem  calm  and  unconcerned,  "  It  is  true,  —  our 


256       THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

master  cannot  come  to-night.  He  bids  me  remain  until  fur- 
ther message." 

Meta  bowed.  "  Condescend  to  receive  my  condolence,  noble 
Mistress.  You  will  be  honorably  lonely,  I  fear.  But  such  is 
always  the  fate  of  one  married  to  a  great  statesman  like  our 
lord." 

"  Yes,"  said  Yuki,  eagerly,  "  and,  Meta,  I  wish  last  of  all 
things  to  become  an  obstacle  in  his  illustrious  path." 

"  Mistress,"  said  the  servant,  in  her  honest  way,  with  a 
smile  like  sunshine  dawning  upon  the  broad,  fresh-colored 
face,  "  all  day  you  have  eaten  nothing.  May  I  not  prepare  a 
little  meal  to  tempt  your  appetite  ?  " 

"You  are  kind  to  me,  Meta,"  said  the  young  wife.  She 
put  a  hand  out  to  the  servant's  arm.  For  some  reason  known 
only  to  women,  the  eyes  of  both  flooded  with  tears. 

"Yes,"  said  Yuki,  her  own  smile  dawning,  "prepare  me  the 
little  dinner.  I  will  try  very  hard  to  eat.  Indeed  I  think 
even  now  I  am  becoming  quite  ravenous  ! " 

Meta,  laughing  outright,  hurried  back  to  the  kitchen.  She 
was  a  good  cook,  and  she  knew  it.  In  this  same  villa-kitchen 
she  had  served  marvellous  dishes  to  prime  ministers  and 
princes,  but  never  before  had  she  worked  with  a  heart  so  full 
of  love  and  tender  compassion.  Never  was  a  meal  more  daintily 
served.  Slices  of  tai  from  the  salt  waves,  embellished  with 
grated  daikon  and  small  foreign  radishes  ;  lily-bulbs  dug  from 
the  hills  around  them  and  boiled  with  sugar  and  wine  into 
balls  of  crumbling  sweetness ;  lotos  roots  from  the  temple  pond, 
sliced  thin  and  served  with  vinegar,  ginger-root  and  shoyu, 
salad  of  yellow  chrysanthemums,  pickles  of  coleus,  cucumber 
and  egg-plant,  the.  whitest  of  rice,  and  tea  picked  but  the  week 
before  by  the  dew-wet  hands  of  little  maids  at  Uji.  Yuki  was 
literally  betrayed  into  enjoyment.  As  she  ate,  Meta  and  the 
old  man  peeped  in  at  her  through  the  shoji,  nudging  each 
other  joyously  at  each  new  mouthful. 

Later  in  the  evening,  when  lamps  were  lighted,  and  the 
shoji  all  drawn  close,  the  two  servants,  with  that  delicate 
familiarity,  that  respectful  presumption  of  which  they  have 
made  an  art,  found  pretext  to  enter.  At  first  there  was  but 
the  usual  salutation,  and  the  expressions  of  gratitude  that  she 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       257 

had  condescended  to  partake  of  such  badly  prepared  food. 
One  question  led  to  another.  In  a  few  moments  the  three 
were  chatting  and  laughing  like  schoolgirls,  the  old  man 
bearing,  in  his  double  superiorities  of  age  and  sex,  the  greater 
share  of  the  conversation.  Yuki  soon  found  that  he  had  a 
single  theme,  —  the  perfections  of  Prince  Hagane.  More  from 
kindness  of  heart  than  interest,  she  encouraged  him  in  these 
reminiscences;  but  in  a  very  short  time  she  was  listening  as 
Desdernona  to  her  Moor.  The  tales  indeed  were  marvellous. 
Once,  at  the  age  of  six,  or  so  said  Bunshichi,  the  little  Sanetomo 
had  gone  at  night  alone  to  a  distant  graveyard  to  bring  home, 
as  proof  of  his  courage,  the  severed  head  of  a  criminal  that 
day  executed.  At  eight  he  had  slain  with  his  own  hand  a 
monstrous  mountain-cat,  terror  of  a  cringing  village.  But  the 
story  which  most  impressed  the  listener  was  that  of  a  poor 
leper,  a  beggar  already  eaten  away  beyond  hope  of  relief,  who, 
having  asked  alms  by  the  roadway,  was  questioned,  the  young 
prince  fixing  thoughtful  eyes  upon  him,  "  You  ask  for  money 
to  buy  food,  is  that  the  best  gift  I  could  offer  you  ?  " 

"Nay,  Master,"  answered  the  thing  who  once  was  man, 
"  there  is  a  better." 

"Name  it,"  said  Hagane. 

•"Death,"  sobbed  the  beggar. 

"  So  think  I,"  cried  the  boy,  and,  without  further  speech, 
sent  his  short  sword  to  the  leper's  heart. 

Meta  always  shuddered  at  this  tale ;  but  Yuki  raised  her 
head  with  so  still  and  white  a  look  that  the  old  man  felt  un- 
easy, and  began  to  explain  at  length.  "  It  was  really  the  best 
gift,  Mistress,  and  after  it  our  princeling  had  him  buried,  and 
many,  many  prayers  said  for  the  rest  of  his  soul.  He  even 
caused  search  to  be  made  for  his  family." 

"  Do  you  think  I  wish  excuse  for  it  ?  "  said  Yuki,  with  her 
strange  smile.  "  I  know  not  which  most  I  envy,  the  beggar 
or  Prince  Hagane." 

The  next  day,  fair  and  sweet  and  practically  windless,  ex- 
cept in  gusts  of  "  pine-wind  "  from  the  shore,  deepened  the 
balm  of  her  preceding  hours.  Wild  pinks  sprang  up  like  a 
fairy  people  on  the  hills.  Crows  perched  and  chattered  in  the 
garden  pines.  Little  red  crabs  came  out,  and  all  day  long 

17 


258  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

drew  marvellous  maps  upon  the  sand ;  and  the  swinging  cen- 
sers of  hillside  roses  burned  a  little  timid  incense  to  the  sun. 
All  the  forenoon  Yuki  busied  herself  about  the  house.  A 
long  letter  was  written  to  Iriya  filled  with  descriptions  of  the 
day.  Frequent  excursions  to  the  kitchen  kept  Meta  and  old 
Bunshichi  in  a  condition  of  expectant  smiles.  In  the  after- 
noon a  sudden  thought  came,  bearing  to  the  girl's  mind  a 
hint  of  wonder  at  her  own  insensibility.  "Why,  the  Great 
Buddha  is  here,  not  a  mile  away  from  me,  and  not  once  have 
I  remembered.  I  will  go  to  him  !  " 

Meta  heard  the  stirring,  and  peeped.  "  Our  mistress  goes 
for  a  walk,"  she  told  her  father.  "Even  now  she  lifts  her 
adzuma-coat.  I  will  get  her  geta  (clogs).  Nothing  could  be 
better  for  her  than  a  walk.  It  is  the  good  food  that  gives  her 
strength." 

"These  young  things  beat  their  wings  like  the  cliff-birds 
when  the  cage  first  snaps,  but  soon  they  come  to  reason  and 
docility,"  chuckled  the  old  man  over  his  pipe. 

"  I  go  to  the  Great  Buddha,  Meta  San,"  said  Yuki. 

"  Will  you  not  take  an  umbrella  —  not  even  a  foreign  bat- 
umbrella  —  to  protect  your  illustrious  head  ?  " 

"  On  these  short  days  the  sun  sinks  very  early.  See,  already 
he  becomes  entangled,  like  a  boy's  red  kite,  in  the  branches  of 
those  tall  hill  pines.  I  need  no  covering." 

"Should  the  august  master  deign  to  arrive  before  your 
divine  reappearance  — "  suggested  Meta,  with  deference  and 
a  deep  bow. 

Yuki's  face  changed  utterly.  "I  —  I  —  did  not  think  of 
him,"  she  stammered.  "  I  will  not  be  long  absent,  and,  Meta, 
should  he  come,  send  quickly  a  runner  and  a  kuruma  for  me. 
Do  you  think  he  will  be  angry,  Meta,  that  I  went  ?  " 

"  Nay,  little  Mistress,  he  would  wish  it.  There  is  no 
kinder  man  alive  than  Prince  Hagane." 

"I  suppose  he  must  be  very  kind,"  murmured  Yuki,  and 
went  with  downcast  looks  into  the  street.  The  sense  of 
childish  anticipation,  of  vivid  expectancy  were  gone.  Meta,  in 
her  effort  to  be  dutiful,  had  clamped  more  tightly  the  manacles 
her  mistress  had  just  begun  to  endure.  Why  should  she  wish 
to  go  ?  What  matter  that  the  Buddha  waited  ?  It  was  not  for 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       259 

her;  she  could  but  drag  before  it  Hagane's  obedient  wife,  a 
cowed  white  ghost  of  duty.  She  moved  forward  mechanically. 
Her  head  sank  still  further  forward,  as  if  the  great  black 
orchid  of  her  hair  grew  heavier.  At  every  step  the  lacquered 
bars  of  her  high  clogs  went  deep  into  sand,  so  that  it  was  in- 
creasingly hard  to  walk.  A  group  of  children,  passing,  looked 
up  into  the  pretty  lady's  face  for  a  smile,  then  hurried  by  in  a 
small  panic  of  fear.  It  is  a  strange  woman  who  does  not  smile 
at  children  in  Japan. 

Now  she  crossed  at  right  angles  the  one  street  of  the  village, 
a  rough  and  stony  thoroughfare  lined  with  opened  booths.  The 
street  terminates  abruptly  at  the  foot  of  a  hill  whereon  stands 
an  ancient  and  famous  temple  of  Kwannon  the  Merciful. 
Within  a  hundred  yards  of  this  hill  an  abrupt  turn  to  the 
right  leads  into  a  country  of  unfenced  fields  of  egg-plant, 
peanuts,  and  sweet  potatoes  ;  then  comes  another  bit  of  hard 
paved  road,  and  then  the  towering  Red  Gate  of  the  temple 
grounds  of  Buddha. 

Yuki  had  noted  dully  that  in  little  gardens  the  cherry  trees, 
always  earlier  here  than  in  Tokio,  were  fashioning  their 
annual  robes  of  pink.  The  wind  from  the  sea,  now  rising, 
threw  petals  out  into  the  air  before  her.  She  watched  the 
fluttering  signals  eagerly,  but  for  some  morbid  reason  would 
not  lift  her  eyes  to  the  tree.  She  had  but  one  thought  now,  — 
a  hunger  for  the  Buddha's  face.  She  longed  to  test  herself,  to 
find  whether,  in  the  gap  between  the  Christian  Yuki  and 
the  Princess  Hagane,  a  shred  of  herself  still  clung.  This 
shred,  it  must  be,  that  the  Buddha  would  smile  upon. 

Through  the  gate  she  stumbled,  her  gaze  still  on  the  ground. 
The  wide  stone  pathway  stretched  soft  and  pink  with  fallen 
bloom.  A  breeze,  entering  with  her,  swept  the  surface  in  a 
mass,  as  though  some  one  twitched  the  far  end  of  a  long  pink 
rug.  Petals  filled  the  air.  They  came  now  in  a  small  hurri- 
cane, fretting  her  cheeks  with  ghostly  fingers,  burrowing  softly 
in  her  collar,  catching  and  clinging  to  the  long  folds  of  her 
robe.  A  sob  stretched  in  her  throat  and  hurt  her.  She  would 
not  raise  her  eyes.  She  reached  the  two  long  granite  steps 
leading  up  to  the  inner  court  of  the  Buddha.  Here  petals 
were  banked  in  rosy  drifts.  She  could  see  the  bases  of  stone 


260  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

lanterns  standing  before  the  shrine.  An  invisible  hand  seemed 
pressing  on  her  shoulder. 

"Namu  Amida  Butsu,  Namu  Amida  Butsu!"  sobbed  her 
lost  childhood  through  her  trembling  lips. 

An  old  priest,  old  beyond  the  telling,  with  a  face  as  of 
wrinkled  silver,  glided  out  from  among  the  flower-laden  trees. 
"  You  are  in  great  grief,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  reverend  sir,  in  great  grief ;  and  it  is  of  that  kind 
which,  to  a  stronger  heart,  might  not  be  called  a  grief." 

"  I  know ;  that  is  a  kind  hard  to  endure,  but  its  triumph 
gives  greatest  enlightenment.  Look  to  the  face  of  Buddha, 
and  pray  for  his  endurance." 

"Pitying  sir,"  sobbed  the  girl,  "I  have  become,  while  in 
the  foreign  laud,  a  Christian." 

The  smile  on  the  old  priest's  face  did  not  alter.  "  All  new 
religions  are  but  forms  of  the  old.  Buddha  will  not  pity  thee 
less  that  thou  dost  call  him  '  Ye-sus,'  for  He,  too,  was  a 
Buddha,  even  as  you  and  I,  daughter,  even  you  and  I,  through 
long  striving,  may  become." 

"I  will  dare,  then,  raise  my  eyes  to  him,"  answered  the 
girl.  The  old  man  stood  very  close  to  her,  and  as  he  saw  the 
white  face  lift,  joined  his  hands  and  whispered,  "Namu 
Amida  Butsu!"  A  moment  later  he  was  gone.  Petals  eddied 
and  settled  where  he  had  stood. 

At  first  the  young  wife  felt  little  emotion  of  any  sort.  She 
gazed  steadily  into  the  marvellous,  calm  face  with  a  glint  of 
gold  under  the  half-closed  lids  and  in  the  jewel  on  the  forehead. 
As  she  looked,  it  grew  to  be  a  thing  not  smoothed  and  fashioned 
by  human  hands,  but  by  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  worshippers,  — 
the  apotheosis,  the  embodiment  of  a  majestic  faith,  so  subtly 
wrought  of  faith  that  should  belief  be  changed,  it,  too,  would 
vanish  like  a  mist,  its  vibrant  particles  loosen  and  dissipate, 
to  recombine  in  some  new  symbol.  How  still  it  was  and 
calm  and  self-assured !  Its  lines  were  growing  rigid  like  the 
formula  of  its  creed ;  but  in  that  changeless,  ever-changing, 
pitying  smile,  a  deathless  truth  still  trembled.  Near  it  the 
hills  seemed  little  piles  of  dust ;  pines,  centuries  old,  mere 
fern-leaves  of  a  summer. 

"  Give  me  calm,  give  me  endurance,  for  they  are  yours  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       261 

give  ! "  said  the  girl,  aloud.  "  I  am  less  than  the  insects  which 
crawl  unnoticed  in  the  grass,  —  I  am  a  blown  petal,  frail  as  these 
I  crush.  If  my  life  can  serve  this  land,  or  aid,  in  infinitesimal 
good,  my  Emperor,  why  can  I  not  be  glad  and  desire  no  more  ?  " 

The  sun  had  fallen  far  below  the  hills.  A  crimson  light, 
a  more  ethereal  tide,  flowed  across  the  sea,  and  soaked  up 
into  the  fibres  of  blue  horizon  mist.  A  cricket  with  the  chill 
of  winter  in  his  little  voice  woke. into  querulous  chiding. 
Yuki  shivered  and  rose  to  her  feet,  drawing  the  robe  more 
tightly.  She  sent  a  glance  about  the  wide  gardens,  and  saw 
that,  apparently,  she  was  alone.  She  turned  as  if  to  go,  but 
an  overpowering  instinct  made  her  lift  her  face  again  to  the 
brooding  face  above  her.  How  colossal,  how  patient,  those 
dark  shoulders  bent  in  the  deepening  twilight!  Around  the 
lotos  pedestal,  the  cherry  trees,  touched  now  by  dull  crimson 
light,  changed  to  great  billows  of  a  smouldering  sea.  Crows 
darted  through  them  like  strange  black  fish,  then  flew  off,  caw- 
ing, to  homes  in  the  pines.  Again  Yuki  turned  to  go,  when  a 
voice  that  froze  her  to  the  stone  said  softly,  "  Ah,  Madame 
Hagane,  what  felicity  to  meet !  " 

Pierre  had  sprung  from  some  unknown  shadow.  He  must 
have  been  watching  her  and  listening  to  her  words.  He 
paused  now,  debonair,  handsome,  though  a  little  pale,  directly 
beneath  an  outcurving  granite  petal  of  the  Buddha's  throne. 
As  she  still  stared,  speechless,  he  struck  a  match  against  the 
bronze  and  lighted  a  cigarette.  She  could  not  see,  for  her 
own  trembling,  how  his  poor  hands  shook.  The  red  match 
glare  revealed  his  face  as  distorted,  evil,  sinister. 

"Well,"  he  remarked  once  more,  "have  you  nothing  to 
say  to  me  ?  " 

This  time  she  tried  to  speak,  but  no  sound  came.  Her 
power  of  motion,  too,  was  in  abeyance.  He  moved  three 
deliberate  steps  nearer.  As  though  the  air  were  glass,  and  she 
repelled  by  its  material  force,  she  went  backward  the  answer- 
1  ing  distance.  Her  left  hand,  clutching  behind  her,  found 
something  hard  and  cold,  and  fastened  to  it  eagerly.  It  was 
the  fin  of  a  bronze  dragon  in  full  relief,  twining  upward,  about 
the  trunk  of  a  tall  lantern.  "Yes,  go,"  she  whispered. 
"Do  not  speak  more  words.  Go!" 


262  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Pierre  took  another  stride.  She  cowered  back  bodily  into 
the  writhing  folds. 

"  For  the  love  of  God ! "  she  panted. 

"  What  if  one  has  ceased  to  love  God  ?  " 

"  In  mercy  then  —  in  pity  —  in  human  pity  —  go ! " 

Pierre  laughed.  "  You  enjoin  pity,  Madame  Hagane  ? 
How  quaint !" 

"I  am  more  deeply  hurted  now  than  you;  but  never  more 
must  I  be  weak.  I  am  a  wife.  I  shall  serve  my  native 
country ! " 

"  Does  treachery  and  faithlessness  ever  serve  ?  You  de- 
lude yourself.  If  Hagane  is  to  be  your  strength,  you  will 
fail,  —  for  either  Hagane  or  I  must  die.  I  live  now  only  to 
revenge  myself  upon  him  !  " 

The  emptiness  of  the  boast,  the  impotence  of  the  suffer- 
ing boy  to  wreak  the  harm  he  wished,  did  not  then  come 
to  her.  The  words  rang  sombre  and  terrible.  "  No  —  no, 
Pierre,"  she  cried,  "  not  that !  Our  Emperor  needs  him  —  our 
country  needs.  Kevenge  on  me,  Pierre  !  I  only  was  faith- 
less. I  deserve  all  harm  you  will  give." 

"  Yes,  you  were  faithless,  but  it  came  because  of  weakness, 
and  the  low  status  of  your  sex  in  this  barbaric  land.  Hagane 
and  your  father  forced  you.  They  threatened,  cowed  you  — 
tortured  you,  for  all  I  know.  Look  at  your  hands!  Mon 
Dieu,  your  little  hands!" 

She  held  them  forth  to  him  with  a  gesture  that  might  have 
disarmed  Beelzebub.  "  I  tore  them  myself  upon  that  hedge  the 
night  you  came,  —  the  night  I  had  promised  Prince  Hagane." 
Pierre  glared  at  her  an  instant  longer.  Oh,  he  had  meant 
to  be  so  harsh!  Nothing  was  to  have  softened  his  just  wrath; 
Through  sleepless  nights  he  had  scourged  himself  with 
memory  until  his  soul  was  flayed.  Yuki  should  not  appeal 
to  him  or  move  him.  He  would  get  from  her  own  lips  some 
faltering  explanation  of  her  perfidy.  Yet  now,  for  all  his 
armor  of  resolve,  two  little  torn  hands  held  out  silently 
through  deepening  gloom  pulled  at  his  heart,  —  drew  down 
the  visor  from  his  quivering  face. 

Above  them  bent,  like  a  great  cloud,  the  head  and  stooping 
shoulders  of  the  Buddha. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       263 

"Yuki,  Yuki,  you  have  ruined  my  life!  You  have 
killed  my  soul !  I  cannot  consent  to  live  unless  to  revenge 
myself  upon  the  man  who  has  brought  us  both  this  agony ! " 

"  Pierre,  if  you  say  such  thing,  I  must  —  because  I  am  now 
Japanese  wife  —  warn  my  master  of  it." 

This  new  affront  to  vanity  stung  Pierre  back  into  some  of 
his  assumed  relentlessness.  "  You  would  defend  him,  —  be- 
tray me  already  ?  Count  Ronsard  said  it  would  be  so,  but  I 
would  not  listen.  Why  should  you  be  true  to  him  when  you 
were  false  as  hell  to  me  ?  I  '11  kill  him,  I  tell  you,  and  if  I 
cannot  kill  him  in  open  fight,  I  will  find  some  way  to  harm 
him !  I  '11  have  you  yet,  Madame  la  Princesse.  I  do  not  give 
you  up,  even  at  your  own  words.  You  owe  me  something! 
Come,  come,  you  owe  me  reparation,  —  help  me  trick  him, 
Yuki.  You  love  me,  —  ah,  I  know  it !  This  is  my  first 
triumph,  that  your  heart  cannot  forget.  Yes,  yes,  pool- 
shivering  slave,  it  is  Pierre  you  love.  Now,  come,  deny  it ! 
When  his  arms  are  around  you,  do  you  not  think  of  mine  ? 
When  his  thick  lips  press  you,  do  you  not  faint  for  me  ? 
Ah,  I  have  touched  you ! " 

"  Go — I  say  to  you  again,  go,  and  go  quickly  !  You  with  your 
own  speech  cauterize  my  wound.  You  are  a  coward !  Your 
words  are  vipers  which  give  their  deepest  venom  first  to  you !  " 

In  speaking  the  girl  had  drawn  herself  very  erect.  Her 
face,  through  the  twilight,  gleamed  luminous  with  inner 
fire.  Over  her  left  shoulder  the  open  mouth  of  the  dragon 
yawned.  Pierre  could  not  meet  her  look.  He  cowered  back, 
and  pressed  his  eyes  with  one  trembling  hand. 

"Yuki,  Yuki,  indeed  I  scarcely  know  what  I  am  saying. 
This  misery  bewilders  me.  I  cannot  eat  or  sleep.  My 
thoughts  surge  in  my  brain  like  fire  in  a  battened  ship.  And 
this  is  worst  of  all,  that  now,  so  soon,  you  are  tamed,  —  half 
reconciled  !  You  have  not  loved  me ! " 

"  If  I  love  or  not  love,  I  must  not  now  remember.  Pierre, 
pity  me  a  little.  Go  from  Nippon  ;  help  me  to  be  the  good 
woman,  and  the  loyal  one." 

But  to  this  appeal  Pierre  could  not  reach.  "  I  do  not  give 
you  up,"  he  muttered  sullenly.  "  And  I  will  harm  Hagane 
when  and  how  I  can!" 


264  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Yuki  stepped  forward  a  little,  still  keeping  one  hand  on 
the  dragon.  "  Then  stand  aside,  Monsieur  Le  Beau.  I  must 
return." 

Pierre  did  not  move.  "  You  shall  not  go,"  he  said  in  the  same 
sullen  fashion.  Yuki  cast  a  despairing  glance  over  toward  the 
small  house  where  the  old  priest  lived,  then  down  the  long 
stone  walk,  now  white  with  petals.  No  one  was  in  sight.  She 
gave  a  heavy  sigh.  On  the  instant  the  sound  of  Japanese 
clogs  came,  mounting,  apparently,  the  stone  steps  of  the  great 
red  gate.  A  form  of  a  man  in  Japanese  robes,  unusually  tall 
for  his  race,  slow  and  majestic  in  approach,  now  became 
visible. 

"  Hagane ! "  she  said,  with  a  great  repressed  cry,  and  bit 
her  lips  to  keep  from  sobbing. 

"  Diable ! "  echoed  Pierre.  He  gave  a  single  look,  a  curse, 
and  pitching  his  cigarette  on  the  stone  flag  near  her,  vanished 
into  the  shadows  of  the  lotos  throne.  Yuki,  half-fainting 
now,  hung  in  the  coils  of  the  dragon.  As  though  life  itself 
depended  on  his  coming,  she  watched  her  husband's  calm 
advance.  His  stride  was  slow,  splendid,  and  imposing,  each 
step  eloquent  of  centuries  of  rulership.  On  catching  sight  of 
her  she  felt  that  he  smiled.  He  moved  no  faster.  "  My 
Lord,"  she  murmured,  not  knowing  that  she  had  said  it. 

The  cigarette  blinked  as  with  a  single  malevolent  eye,  and 
sent  up  an  acrid  smoke  between  them.  He  stepped  over  it, 
apparently  unobservant,  and  held  out  a  hand.  Yuki  clutched 
at  it. 

"  Why,  small  sweet  one,  how  white  your  face  gleams  through 
the  darkness!  And  you  lie,  like  a  crystal  ball  of  fate,  in  the 
old  dragon's  claws !  Well,  here  is  a  larger  dragon  come  to  bear 
you  home." 

Yuki  tottered  toward  him.  At  first  touch  of  his  hand  had 
come  the  sense  of  renewed  power.  "  I  dreamed  not,  Lord, 
that  your  august  returning  might  be  so  soon,  or  I  should  not 
have  left  your  house.  I  left  with  Meta  the  message  — 

"  She  gave  it  carefully,  but  I  preferred  to  come  in  person 
for  thee,  little  one.  Here,  lean  on  me.  You  tremble.  Per- 
haps the  walk  has  been  too  long.  To-morrow  we  are  to  leave 
this  quiet  place,  and  you  will  be  Madame  Hagane,  wife  of  the 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  265 

Minister  of  War,  — Madame  Hagane,  official  mistress  of  a 
huge  and  unattractive  residence.  But  you  will  brighten  it, 
and  your  friends  of  the  American  Legation  shall  aid  you." 

"I  shall  try  with  all  my  soul  and  strength,  Lord,  to  be 
worthy  of  you." 

"I  do  not  fear,  my  child.  All  things  are  not  to  be  at  once 
expected  of  a  single  small  flake  of  maidenhood  and  snow. 
How  yet  you  tremble  !  Here,  I  will  draw  your  arm  in  mine. 
Cling  to  me.  Never  mind  if  the  children  on  the  road  laugh  at 
us  and  say  that  the  old  prince  is  mad  with  love  of  his  young 
wife.  In  the  great  city  I  must  often  forget  you.  But  wait 
one  instant  —  " 

He  had  been  standing,  half-turned  from  the  great  Buddha. 
Now  he  faced  it,  Yuki  falling  back  a  little.  He  raised  both 
hands,  rubbed  them  softly  together  in  invocation,  and  Yuki, 
marvelling  at  him,  heard  the  reverent  words,  "Nainu  Amida 
Butsu  !  Nainu  Amida  Butsu ! " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

So,  without  further  preparation  or  experience,  was  the  little 
Lady  Yuki,  fresh  from  her  American  school,  not  yet  com- 
pletely readapted  to  her  native  environment,  installed  as  mis- 
tress of  a  great,  official  mansion. 

The  servants,  of  course,  were  strangers.  A  few  of  these 
bore  to  Prince  Hagane  the  relation  of  "  hangers-on,"  impover- 
ished families  of  soldiers  and  retainers  left  from  feudal  days. 
Others  had  official  connection  with  the  place,  and  remained 
unmolested  through  various  administrations. 

For  the  first  twenty-four  hours  the  young  wife  moved  in  an 
atmosphere  of  dazed  unreality.  Her  first  conscious  interest 
was  in  the  mail.  She  began  to  watch  for  letters  from  her 
mother,  or  Gwendolen,  —  perhaps  from  that  one  whom  she 
must  forget.  The  thought  of  their  last  interview  remained 
with  her  as  the  cruelest  of  all  her  wounds.  No  letter  came. 
Pierre  would  not,  in  any  case,  have  written,  believing  that 
Hagane  had  given  orders  to  have  all  letters  pass  first  under 
his  inspection.  The  silence  of  Iriya  and  Gwendolen  had 
another  cause.  Her  new  and  exalted  rank  necessitated  from 
Yuki  the  initial  step.  She  did  not  know  this,  and  Hagane, 
plunged  deep  already  into  affairs  of  state,  had  not  thought  to 
tell  her. 

She  lived  now  almost  an  isolated  existence.  Only  the  head 
butler  dared  personally  address  her.  Even  he,  in  requesting 
orders  from  "her  Highness,"  bowed  and  smiled  with  a  sort 
of  deprecating  commiseration,  as  though  he  recognized  her 
bewilderment.  Of  her  husband  she  saw  little.  The  longing 
for  her  mother  and  her  friend  grew  poignant.  Through  the 
great  high-ceiled  rooms  she  wandered.  The  face  of  the  great 
dark  Buddha  often  loomed  above  her.  From  every  shadow 
she  shrank,  fearing  that  Pierre  Le  Beau  might  be  in  hiding. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       267 

Three  miserable  days  dragged  by.  On  the  fourth,  Hagane 
was  present  at  the  breakfast-table.  News  of  a  great  victory 
had  come.  The  Western  world  was  just  beginning  to  realize 
the  true  mettle  in  the  Japanese  soul.  Hagane  read  aloud  sev- 
eral editorials  from  English  and  American  papers,  and  made 
comment  upon  them,  as  though  his  listener  were  a  man,  and 
his  equal.  He  had  ordered  a  foreign  meal,  and  the  coffee  and 
excellent  food  stimulated  the  girl.  Her  husband's  companion- 
ship and  condescension  exhilarated  her.  It  was  part  of  a 
brightening  future  that,  even  before  their  meal  was  over, 
the  butler  should  annouuce,  "Madame  Onda,  mother  to  her 
Highness." 

Yuki  gave  a  small  cry  of  pleasure.  Hagane  lowered  his 
paper,  and  paused  to  smile  upon  his  young  wife.  He  did  not 
give  a  hint  that  it  was  through  his  direct  agency  that  the  vis- 
itor had  come.  "  Ah,  your  eyes  brighten  at  this  news  more 
even  than  at  victory ! "  he  laughed.  To  the  servant  he  said 
briefly,  "  Conduct  Madame  Onda  to  us  here." 

The  servant  hesitated,  "  Your  Highness,  there  is  with  her 
also  an  old  attendant,  a  dame  called  Suzume,  who  —  talks." 

"  Shall  we  bid  the  chatterer  enter,  Yuki  ?  " 

"  If  your  Highness  permit,"  laughed  Yuki. 

"  Admit  both,"  said  Hagane,  and  returned  to  his  editorials. 

Yuki  rose  to  welcome  her  guests.  As  the  door  was  flung 
back  Iriya  hesitated  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold.  Without 
a  glance  toward  Yuki  she  hurried  to  the  Prince,  and,  prostrat- 
ing herself,  bowed  again  and  again,  with  audible,  indrawn 
breaths.  Suzume,  at  her  heels,  followed  suit,  excelling  her 
mistress  in  the  rapidity  of  repeated  bows,  and  the  power  of 
audible  suction. 

"Nay,  little  mother  of  my  Yuki,"  said  Hagane,  reaching 
down  a  hand,  "rise  now,  I  pray.  Such  extreme  of  deference 
is  not  seemly  in  the  mother  of  a  princess.  Kindly  be  at  ease 
in  greeting  your  daughter,  and  converse  as  freely  as  if  I  were 
not  present." 

Iriya  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  to  perch  on  the  very 
rim  of  a  leather  chair  and  sip  at  a  cup  of  coffee,,  while  she 
and  Yuki  exchanged  compliments  and  inquiries  as  to  the 
health  of  the  members  of  their  respective  families.  This  is 


268  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

always  the  first  social  duty  in  Japan.  It  takes  the  place  of 
"  weather." 

No  notice  whatever  was  being  taken  of  old  Suzume,  who 
had  continued  genuflections  and  inspiration  to  the  point  of 
vertigo,  when  Yuki  at  last  came  to  her  assistance.  Nothing 
would  induce  the  old  dame  to  sit  on  a  foreign  chair.  "  She 
had  tried  them  once,"  she  protested.  "  They  felt  like  a  pile 
of  dead  fish  on  a  kitchen  bench."  Her  post,  self-assigned, 
was  the  extreme  corner  of  the  red  and  green  Axminster  carpet. 
While  her  superiors  conversed,  she  let  her  keen,  sunken  eyes 
dart  like  dragon-flies  from  one  piece  of  furniture  to  the  other, 
from  ceiling  to  floor,  from  curtain  to  framed  oil-painting, 
until  the  very  texture  of  these  things  must  have  been  photo- 
graphed on  her  busy  retina. 

After  a  few  pleasant  if  perfunctory  questions  and  replies, 
Prince  Hagane  rose,  saying  that  he  had  work  in  his  private 
office,  and  afterward  must  leave  the  house.  "I  hope  you 
will  remain  with  Yuki  just  as  long  as  your  domestic  duties 
permit,"  he  had  said  last  of  all.  Immediately  upon  his  clos- 
ing of  the  door,  Iriya  began  congratulating  her  daughter  upon 
her  splendid  fortune,  and  retailing  congratulatory  messages 
from  relatives  and  old  friends.  The  little  lady's  feet,  as  she 
sat  on  the  high  dining-room  chair,  did  not  quite  reach  to  the 
floor.  The  draught  on  her  bare  ankles  just  above  the  tabi 
(digitated  socks)  sawed  like  ice.  With  a  little  gesture  of  en- 
treaty to  Yuki,  she  hurried  over  to  a  comfortable  sofa,  where 
she  nestled,  and  drew  her  feet  up  under  her.  Yuki  smiled  at 
the  naivete  of  it.  Already  she  felt  years  older  than  her 
mother.  She  took  her  place  on  a  chair,  drawing  forward  a 
tabouret  with  smoking  outfit,  and  urged  her  willing  guest  to 
the  luxury  of  a  small  pipe.  A  sense  of  freedom,  of  delight  in 
this  sweet  companionship,  swept  for  the  moment  Yuki's 
hovering  responsibilities. 

"  Okkasan,  dear  Okkasan  (honorable  mother),  I  am  so 
happy  to  be  with  you!  But  why  did  you  wait  so  long  ?  "  Her 
voice  was  rich  with  tender  reproving.  "  Three  long  days  ! 
Long  as  the  castle  moats  when  the  mud  is  showing.  The 
prince  is  in  this  house  but  seldom.  I  have  been  lonely, 
mother." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       269 

"  Your  father  forbade  me  to  write  or  visit  you  until  official 
request  was  made  us.  Now  you  are  a  princess,  dear,  and  far 
outrank  Sir  Ouda's  wife." 

Yuki  flushed.  Her  eyes  sank  in  embarrassment.  "  Oh,  I 
had  not  heard  of  the  strange  fact.  I  beg  your  pardon,  my 
mother.  I  am  ashamed  that  it  is  so." 

Iriya  laughed.  "  Do  you  beg  my  pardon  for  being  a  prin- 
cess, for  making  your  father  proud  and  happy,  when  —  when 
—  he  was  threatened  by  such  disappointment  ?  " 

Now  *Iriya,  too,  became  embarrassed.  She  had  intended  not 
to  refer  to  unhappy  topics  of  the  past.  Yuki  was  thinking 
deeply.  "  It  must  be  honorably  the  same  cause  which  keeps 
my  Gwendolen  away."  A  great  relief  followed  the  thought. 
The  fear  of  coldness,  of  censure,  was  gone.  She  smiled  into  the 
air  before  her,  thinking  of  the  letter  she  soon  should  write. 

At  first,  unnoticed  by  her  companions,  old  Suzume  had  risen 
from  her  corner  and  was  trotting  stealthily  about  the  room. 
She  touched  now,  softly,  each  marvellous  object  within  her 
reach,  and  talked  to  herself,  the  while,  in  a  queer  little  sing- 
song monologue.  "Ma-a-a !  the  honorable,  huge  room,  and  the 
wonderful  things,  all  belonging  to  our  Yuki-ko !  Foreign  car- 
pets with  many-colored  vegetables  painted  on  them.  Strange, 
puffy  beds,  high  up  on  legs,  like  horses  (Here  she  patted  a 
French  sofa) .  High  tables,  —  Ma-a-a !  with  little  carpets  on 
them,  too,  all  ravelled  at  the  edges.  Big  glass  wine-cups 
(here  she  lifted  an  iridescent  flower-vase)  —  merciful  Buddha! 
No  wonder  the  august  foreigners  are  so  often  drunk  !  Gold  is 
all  about,  on  walls  and  furniture, — even  the  pictures  have 
little  fences  of  gold  around  them !  I  see  a  big  singing-box 
(piano)  over  in  the  corner.  That  alone  costs  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  yen.  How  rich  our  o  jo  san  must  be ! " 

Iriya  and  Yuki,  by  this  time,  had  begun  to  notice  the  antics 
and  to  smile  at  the  crooning  of  the  old  woman.  She  saw  it,  — 
nothing  escaped  the  arrow  of  those  jetty  orbs,  — but  it  pleased 
her  now  to  pretend  unconsciousness  of  observation.  She  placed 
herself  in  front  of  Yuki,  as  if  the  young  wife  were  a  large 
dressed  doll,  and  could  not  listen.  "Ma-a-a!  Our  o  jo  san, 
last  of  the  Onda  race.  There  she  sits,  straight  and  slim  in  her 
foreign  chair,  just  like  our  Gracious  Empress  herself  when 


270  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

her  photograph  is  taken  !  Now  she  is  a  princess,  but  once  she 
was  only  a  little  girl,  carried  to  school  on  old  Suzume's  bent 
back.  Tee-hee!  My  back  is  crooked  now  as  Daruma, —  but 
a  princess  helped  to  crook  it ! " 

"  Don't  say  such  things,  Suzume !  "  cried  Yuki,  quickly. 
"  They  hurt  me  !  " 

"  Why  should  it  hurt  you,  Yuki-ko,  —  I  mean,  your  High- 
ness, when  old  Suzume  is  only  proud  ?  "  chuckled  the  beldame, 
with  almost  malicious  enjoyment.  "  Let  me  be  crooked,  by 
your  favor.  Let  me  hump  over  like  the  lobster  of  long  life. 
A  princess  curved  my  back,  tee-hee  !  Ma-a-a !  Will  your 
kind  eyes  moisten  for  such  a  thing  ?  Ara !  I  have  ceased.  Be- 
hold me  now,  your  Highness,  —  straight  and  slim  as  a  young 
willow  down  by  the  moat."  She  threw  back  her  shoulders  and 
swaggered  comically. 

"  That  is  better.  How  is  it  that  little  Maru  did  not  come 
to-day?"  asked  Yuki,  determined,  if  possible,  to  change  the 
current  of  the  old  soul's  thought.  Her  effort  was  strikingly 
successful.  Simultaneously  Suzume's  face  and  hands  fell. 
"  Ma-a-a !  I  am  a  fool.  Moths  have  eaten  my  memory !  Maru 
crouches  yet  outside  the  street  gate,  waiting  for  permission  to 
enter." 

"  And  I,  too,  forgot.  Kwannon,  forgive  my  selfishness," 
murmured  Iriya. 

"  Oh,  poor,  poor  Maru !  "  cried  the  hostess,  her  face  a  bright 
tangle,  now,  of  smiles  and  tears,  "  the  cold  wind  blows  down 
that  street.  Go  quickly,  Suzume.  Fetch  her,  instantly  !  " 

The  spoiled  old  servant  cast  a  cunning  eye  to  an  electric 
bell  set  in  its  black  wood  disc.  "  August  Princess,"  she 
whined,  "  deign  but  to  put  your  smallest  finger  upon  that 
white  pebble  yonder,  and  at  once  a  fine  man-servant  will 
enter.  Maru  will  be  much  comforted  to  receive  her  summons 
from  a  grand  maw-servant  in  foreign  clothes  !  " 

Iriya's  face  showed  vexation  at  the  old  servant's  forward- 
ness, but  Yuki  laughed  and  touched  the  bell.  She  was  be- 
ginning to  realize,  in  a  sort  of  glad  wonder,  that  her  heart 
grew  lighter  with  every  smile. 

Maru  came  into  the  room  sidewise.  At  every  few  steps 
her  knees  apparently  gave  way.  She  did  not  know,  in  a  for- 


THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS  271 

eign  house,  just  when  she  was  expected  to  kneel  and  bow,  so 
kept  herself  in  readiness  to  drop  at  an  instant's  notice.  Her 
face  was  round,  like  a  dish.  Her  beady  eyes  snapped  and 
sparkled  with  excitement.  The  small  button  of  a  nose,  blown 
on  by  unfriendly  winds',  glowed  in  the  centre  of  her  counte- 
nance like  an  over-ripe  cherry.  At  sight  of  Yuki,  she  found 
her  cue  and  grovelled.  "  How  is  it  ?  "  asked  Yuki  of  her 
mother,  when  Maru  was  at  last  persuaded  to  hold  her  head 
erect,  "  that,  I  not  having  yet  written,  you  and  the  servants 
came  to  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  did  you  not  know  of  it  ?  Prince  Hagane  sent,  last 
night,  a  special  messenger." 

"  No,  I  had  not  heard.    Prince  Hagane  is  very  kind." 

At  the  curious  tone  Iriya  sent  a  keen  look  to  her  daughter. 
She  did  not  like  the  expression  gathering  on  the  down-bent 
face.  "  Come,  my  jewel,  you  have  not  shown  us  half  the  won- 
ders of  your  new  home.  Shall  not  Suzume  and  Maru  be  given 
bliss  ?  We  can  stay  but  an  hour.  " 

"An  hour!"  echoed  the  young  wife,  in  dismay.  "That  is 
already  half  spent.  Oh,  mother,  one  hour  ?  " 

"  Such  are  your  father's  orders.  You  know  we  do  not  dis- 
obey him." 

Yuki  sighed.  "  I  know.  Well,  let  us  see  all  that  we  can 
in  the  short  space.  This  room  is  but  the  dining-room,  where, 
as  you  have  seen,  we  eat  foreign  meals.  There  is  a  Japanese 
wing  and  smaller  dining-room,  which  I  shall  often  use  when 
my  master  is  absent.  Now  let  us  go  into  the  long  hall,  then 
into  the  zashiki,  or  drawing-room."  In  passing  the  hall- way 
she  saw  Mam's  eyes  fasten  on  the  telephone  box.  It  had, 
indeed,  an  unrelated,  black  look,  set  so  squarely  against  the 
flowered  wall-paper.  Yuki  felt  the  tug  on  an  inspiration. 
"  Come,  mother ;  I  shall  not  need  to  write  to  my  friend.  I 
shall  talk  to  her  through  this  !  Like  the  old  sennin  (genii), 
who  whispered  to  each  other  from  peak  to  crag  of  far  moun- 
tains, I  shall  talk  clearly  to  the  slope  of  Azabu !  " 

Iriya  caught  her  sleeve.  "I  fear  for  you  to  talk  in  that 
strange  way,  my  child.  The  gods  may  not  like  it." 

"Ah,  mother,  in  America  I  have  talked  for  hours  and  was 
not  injured." 


272  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"  Our  gods  were  not  in  America  to  see,"  murmured  Iriya, 
and  followed  with  evident  reluctance.  Suzume  and  Maru  came 
close  behind.  Yuki  boldly  pulled  down  the  receiver  and  held 
it  to  her  ear.  The  servants  uttered  short  squeaks  like  mice. 

"  Moshi,  moshi ! "  called  Yuki,  giving  the  Japanese  tele- 
phone cry. 

Maru  shuddered.  "  Is  it  a  deaf  devil,  that  the  o  jo  san 
speaks  so  loudly  ?  " 

"  A  whole  nest  of  devils,  Maru  San,"  said  Yuki,  with  mis- 
chievous and  impressive  gravity.  "  There  are  green  and  red 
devils  like  those  that  the  lightning  bolts  bring  down,  and 
little  foreign  devils  in  boots  and  beards,  and  — " 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  !  let  us  go !  "  cried  the  little  maid,  and 
clutched  Suzume's  sleeve. 

"  America  no  Koshikwan,"  Yuki  was  replying,  in  apparent 
unconcern,  to  the  devils.  Suzume  had  realized  the  situation. 
"  Fool !  "  she  said  to  the  cringing  Maru,  giving  a  scowl  and  a 
light  cuff  on  the  ear,  "  the  princess  is  only  telegraphing  in 
talk  instead  of  writing.  The  house-servants  laugh  at  you. 
We  shall  have  no  face  !  " 

By  this  time  the  imperilled  princess  was  talking  rapidly  in 
English.  Her  countenance  quivered,  brightened,  changed,  as 
if  a  person  stood  before  her.  In  pause  of  listening  she  would 
nod,  smile,  listen  again,  giving  murmured  ejaculations. 

The  verisimilitude  proved  too  much  for  Maru.  In  spite  of 
cuffs  fiercely  renewed,  and  a  desperate  effort  to  keep  her  limp 
body  from  the  floor,  she  sank  from  her  mentor's  grasp,  clutch- 
ing the  thin  old  legs,  and  sobbing,  "  They  are  bewitching  our 
Miss  Yuki,  —  I  know  they  are  !  Foxes  are  shut  in  that  black 
box  !  She  will  get  full  of  them,  and  then  they  will  all  fly  out 
to  eat  our  hearts  !  " 

"  They  'd  have  a  sop  of  sour  jelly  with  yours,  cuttlefish ! " 
said  Suzume,  kicking  in  disgust.  Finally,  in  utter  exaspera- 
tion, she  seized  the  culprit  by  the  ear,  sliding  her  bodily  down 
the  hardwood  floor,  and  depositing  her  in  a  moaning  heap  on 
the  back  veranda  beneath  a  water-cooler. 

"Gwendolen,  Gwendolen!"  Yuki  was  crying.  "I  have 
just  now  learned,  I  think,  why  you  have  not  come  or  wrote  to 
me."  (Pause.)  "Yes,  it  was  just  that  thing,  — my  rank,  it  is 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  273 

called.  Alas,  do  you  remember,  Gwendolen,  that  poor  little 
sea-maid  how  she  feel  when  the  proud  grandmother  beckoned 
eight  large  oysters  to  fasten  upon  her  scales  ?  Well,  I  have 
now  the  pinch  of  such  oysters.  But  I  will  not  care  so  much 
if  only  you  will  come  ! "  (Pause.)  "  My  mother  is  with  me,  and 
her  servants,  but  they  must  go  very  soon.  I  will  be  alone.  — 
Yes,  he  is  to  be  absent  all  the  day.  Oh,  come  quickly,  — 
quickly,  —  I  cannot  bear  some  more  long  waiting."  Yuki 
wheeled  from  the  telephone.  "  She  will  come,  mother ;  my 
friend  will  come !  Let  us  go  to  the  long  drawing-room  and 
wait  for  her.  I  will  send  tea  and  cakes  to  comfort  the  silly 
Maru.  Some  other  day  we  shall  see  all  of  this  big  house. 
It  is  very  ugly,  though  costing  much  money.  That  is  honor- 
ably often  the  case  with  foreign  things.  Oh,  mother,  I  have 
been  so  hungry  for  you  and  my  golden  friend !  She  will  be 
brought  to  us  in  the  long  drawing-room.  "We  are  in  heart  and 
soul,  if  not  in  race,  true  sisters.  How  kind  she  was  to  me  at 
school !  I  have  written  you  before.  The  other  girls  would 
tease  me.  They  asked  impertinent  questions,  and  would 
always  be  tormenting  me  to  dance.  Gwendolen  was  the  only 
one  to  see  how  I  felt.  She  protected  me,  and  would  not  let 
me  dance  until  my  heart  began  to  sing.  She  knew  that  real 
dancing,  like  poetry,  should  come  only  when  your  heart  sings, 
—  not  just  because  you  are  requested.  Sometimes  in  home- 
sickness I  would  dance,  sometimes  in  joy  of  springtime 
flowers.  Those  girls  tried,  too,  to  dance,  — the  funny  Ameri- 
can girls !  But  they  could  never  learn.  Not  even  Gwendo- 
len could  learn,  though  I  taught  and  taught  and  taught 
her!" 

Excitement  bred  of  the  coming  visit  caught  her  up  like  a 
leaf.  Prattling  on,  she  moved  swiftly  into  the  long  room, 
beckoning  now  and  then  for  Iriya  to  follow.  The  mother  kept 
at  quite  a  distance,  embarrassed  by  this  lack  of  restraint  in  a 
married  daughter.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  the  girl  paused, 
and,  as  if  impelled,  threw  herself  into  a  pose  of  wonderful 
beauty,  every  bone,  every  inch  of  white  flesh  set,  as  it  were, 
into  visible  expression  of  a  poetic  thought.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  ever  again  I  should  wish  to  dance  like  this,"  Iriya  heard 
her  murmur.  "Yes,  I  am  coming  back  to  myself.  Even 

18 


274  THE   BREATH   OF   THE  GODS 

that  little  soul  that  fled  on  the  ship,  —  it  may  come  back  last 
of  all,  but  it  will  come." 

Half  dreamily  she  passed  into  a  second  pose.  The  transi- 
tion was  music.  Now  her  long  eyes  closed  into  a  mere  gleam- 
ing thread,  her  lips  parted,  and  trembled.  Almost  without 
motion  of  her  mouth  she  talked  on,  in  broken  Japanese 
phrases,  uttering  them  in  rhythms,  which  subtly  related  to 
the  gestures  of  her  body.  "No,  those  girls  could  never 
dance,  —  never  dance,  —  with  their  honorably  stiff  shoulders 
and  their  limbs  like  trunks  of  young  trees.  They  attempted 
it  with  fervor,  but  they  could  not  augustly  dance.  But  I  will 
dance  again,  and  my  souls  will  listen.  I  will  dance  the  dance 
of  the  Sun  Goddess  and  of  morning,  because  my  friend  is 
coming ! "  She  hummed,  now,  the  tune  and  the  words  of  a 
famous  classic.  Iriya,  completely  under  the  spell,  sank  to 
the  floor  in  the  attitude  of  a  singer,  caught  up  the  rhythm,  and 
sang  with  her : 

"  Night  is  where  thou  art  not, 

Oh,  my  beloved ! 

Night  lies  in  the  stone  rolled  close  against  thy  door. 
Let  the  sighs  of  spring, 

(  My  sighing,  oh,  divine  one,) 
Let  the  salt  waves'  weeping  (my  salt  tears)  allure  thee ! 

The  beautiful  gestures  flowed  one  into  the  next,  like  cur- 
rents of  living  water. 

"  Lo,  she  awakens ;    light    with  shining  fingers  frets  the  dark 
rock  fissure- 

She  approaches  ;  see  the  black  rock  melt." 

"Hark!  listen!"  cried  the  dancer,  and  paused  with  arms 
outspread.  It  was  as  if  winds  stood  still,  as  if  a  flower-branch, 
tossed  in  air,  lost  suddenly  its  power  to  return.  Iriya  caught 
her  breath.  She  too  rose.  Jinrikisha  wheels  were  on  the 
gravel.  "  My  hour  is  gone,"  said  Iriya ;  "  I  know  it  from  the 
shadows.  I  will  now  return  home,  taking  the  servants  with 
me.  You  remain  here,  my  child,  and  greet  the  friend  who 
now  enters." 

"Yes,  I  will  remain  here,  mother,  my  dear,  dear  mother, 
I  will  greet  my  friend,"  whispered  the  girl.  The  glamour  of 
the  dance  had  swept  back  and  held  her.  Half  in  the  world  of 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       275 

poetry,  half  in  the  material  present,  she  wavered.  The  dawn 
of  her  friend's  coming  shone  through  both.  Iriya,  with  a  last, 
tender  look,  slipped  from  the  room.  Yuki's  lip  quivered  like 
a  child's  as  she  saw  her  mother  go.  But  now,  down  the  long 
hall,  came  the  tap-tap  of  high-heeled  foreign  shoes.  A  new 
tremor  stirred  Yuki's  lips,  a  little  hint  of  fear  hid  in  her  eyes. 

Gwendolen  paused  on  the  threshold.  For  a  long  moment 
the  two  stood  transfixed,  —  gazing,  searching,  each  the  face  of 
the  other.  Yes,  a  barrier  had  grown  between  them,  —  the 
mystery  of  marriage,  the  recollection  (on  Gwendolen's  part) 
of  unspeakable  slanders,  the  ghostly,  intangible  stirring  of 
race  antagonism,  to  which  they  themselves  could  not  have 
given  name.  Yuki  began  slowly  to  whiten,  but  Gwendolen, 
with  a  backward  toss  of  the  head  like  Diana  on  a  hilltop, 
cried  out  aloud,  "  My  sister  !"  and  the  two  friends,  crashing 
through  phantoms,  found  each  other's  arms.  They  clung 
close,  sobbing  and  swaying.  Whispers  started,  but  never 
found  conclusion.  Names  were  repeated  with  every  intona- 
tion of  deep  love.  "  My  friend,  —  my  Gwendolen  !  "  "  Yuki ! 
Yuki !  Yuki !  "  A  dozen  times  they  drew  back,  looked  again, 
and  clung  closer.  Finally  they  succeeded  in  reaching  a  sofa, 
and  sat  down,  with  hands  still  intertwined. 

"And  you,  little  you,  are  the  mistress  of  all  this  great 
house !  You  are  to  give  receptions,  and  be  the  chief  hostess.  I 
suppose  you  will  chaperon  me,  you  chicken  !  Is  n't  it  a  joke  ?" 

"  It  do  seem  joky,"  admitted  Yuki,  with  another  sigh  of 
full  content. 

"Well,  Madame  la  Princesse,  may  I  give  you  now  my  first 
social  commission  ?  I  want  a  prince  of  my  own,  —  a  Japanese 
prince.  Let  him  be  poor, — all  the  better,  —  but  his  trade- 
mark, I  mean  his  crest,  I  insist  on  having  it  warranted  as  the 
real  thing." 

"What  would  then  become  of  poor  Mr.  Dodge  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Dodge !  "  echoed  the  other,  with  greatest  scorn.  "  You 
certainly  never  had  any  idea  I  would  look  twice  at  Mr.  Dodge  ! 
Besides,  he  is  making  a  fool  of  himself  over  that  fat,  ogling 
Carmen  Niestra.  Ugh  !  She  reminds  me  of  a  huge  suet  pud- 
ding with  sweet  sauce.  I  always  suspected  Dodge  of  low 
sentiments." 


276  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"  I  know  not  of  this  Miss  Carmen,"  said  Yuki,  in  a  troubled 
voice.  "But  I  like  Mr.  Dodge,  always,  very,  very  much  ;  and 
I  am  sure  he  loved  you  —  distractionately !  " 

"That  just  about  expresses  it!"  cried  Gwendolen;  and 
little  Yuki  never  knew  why  her  friend  laughed  so  heartily, 
while  the  dark  shadow  of  an  unspoken  pain  still  clouded 
her  bright  eyes.  "Let's  change  the  subject,"  the  American 
said  quickly.  "  Dad  told  me  to  give  you  lots  of  love,  and  to 
say  that  all  of  us  were  looking  forward  to  that  grand  first 
reception  of  yours.  Next  Thursday,  isn't  it?  No,  Friday. 
We  got  our  cards  yesterday." 

"You  will  come  and  assist  me  in  the  preparing,  won't  you, 
dear  Gwendolen  ?  " 

"  I  could  n't  be  kept  away ! " 

"And  Mrs.  Todd,  too.  Your  kind  mother,  will  she  not 
come  ?  " 

Gwendolen  averted  her  face.  "The  truth  is,  Yuki,  mother 
takes  Pierre's  part.  Nothing  that  dad  or  I  can  say  has  influ- 
ence. That  awful  Mrs.  Stunt  owns  mother  now,  body  and 
soul  ;  and  Mrs.  Stunt  has  no  tender  feelings  to  spare  for  her 
own  sex." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  mother,  or  even  greatly  hurt. 
It  is  right  that — he  —  should  have  friends  to  sympathize. 
Say  to  your  mother,  please,  that  I  do  not  resent." 

"  I  '11  say  nothing  of  the  kind ! "  cried  Gwendolen,  indig- 
nantly. "  It  would  please  Mrs.  Stunt  too  much.  Oh,  they 
will  be  waiting  to  question  me  about  you.  Mrs.  Stunt's  eyes 
will  glare  like  those  of  a  hungry  hyena.  I  shall  tell  them 
that  you  are  superbly  indifferent.  That  will  fetch  them ! 
Mrs.  Stunt,  as  it  is,  will  be  the  first  to  enter  your  reception- 
rooms,  —  the  odious  little  painted  ghoul !  " 

All  brightness  had  faded  from  the  young  faces.  Each 
stared  upon  troubled  visions.  "  Since  we  are  on  such  topics, 
Yuki,"  Gwendolen  began,  "  I  might  as  well  tell  you  and  have 
done  with  it,  —  Pierre  himself  is  acting  like  a  spoiled  child,  a 
cad.  He  wants  to  make  trouble." 

"  His  threat  is  to  harm  Prince  Hagane,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  But  who  told  you  ?  "  She  looked  sharply  at  her 
companion.  Yuki  apparently  had  not  heard.  Gwendolen 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       277 

went  on.  "  Dad  simply  laughs  at  him  for  a  foolish  blusterer. 
He  says  a  cricket  might  as  well  shake  its  fists  at  a  graiu 
elevator." 

"There  is  no  rumor  at  all  that  Pierre  may  go  home  to 
France  ?  " 

"Absolutely  none.  Eonsard  is  using  him  as  a  cat's-paw. 
Since  your  marriage  Pierre  has  been  openly  announced  Second 
Secretary  of  the  French  Legation.  A  sinecure,  but  it  gives  him 
entree  to  all  court  functions, — to  official  receptions, — to  — 
your  reception,  Yuki." 

"  I  have  thought  of  this  also,"  said  Yuki.  "  He  could  not 
harm  my  husband  in  such  an  open  place." 

"  No,  but  with  that  demon  of  a  Ronsard  behind  him  he 
could  embarrass,  perhaps  mortify,  both  you  and  Hagane." 

Yuki  fell  silent.  Her  slim  hands  clasped  and  unclasped 
nervously.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  spot  of  carpet  near  her 
feet.  "  Of  course  it  is  certain  that  so  great  statesman  as 
Hagane  thought  of  all  such  dangers  before  he  wished  to  marry 
me,"  she  murmured,  as  much  to  herself  as  her  companion. 

"Good  gracious,  Yuki  Onda!"  broke  in  Gwendolen,  with 
startling  abruptness.  "  What  are  those  fearful  scars  on  your 
hands  ?  Did  they  torture  you  after  all  ?  " 

Gwendolen's  shocked  face  and  horrified  tone  expressed 
more  than  she  would  willingly  have  admitted. 

Yuki's  eyes  flashed  once.  She  drew  her  hands  within  her 
sleeves.  "  How  can  you  say  such  silly  thing  ?  Nipponese  do 
not  torture ! " 

Gwendolen,  to  hide  her  emotion  (for  she  did  not  entirely 
believe  Yuki's  vehement  asseveration)  sprang  up  and  began 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  near  the  sofa  where  Yuki  sat, 
watching  her.  "What  is  it  that  you  were  about  to  warn  me 
of  Monsieur  Le  Beau  ?  "  asked  the  latter,  calmly. 

"He  is  weak  —  silly — sentimental;  bleating  all  over  the 
place  about  his  blighted  hopes,  —  his  ruined  life.  He  makes 
me  ill ! "  The  girl  was  thankful  to  expend  on  the  absent 
Pierre  indignation  to  which  she  dared  not  ascribe  the  real 
source.  Those  gashes  on  her  friend's  small  hands  were 
burned  already  on  her  own  heart.  It  did  not  occur  to  her 
that  accident  had  caused  them.  In  a  time  of  such  conflict, 


278  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

they  must  be,  necessarily,  the  marks  of  cruelty  and  violence. 
Yuki  guessed  the  pent-up  fount  of  passion  in  her  friend,  for 
she  remarked  quite  coolly,  "  I  assure  you,  Gwendolen,  those 
little  scratches  were  made  by  me,  —  myself,  on  our  garden 
hedge.  I  was  the  stupidity.  No  one  caused  but  myself.  You 
know  I  have  never  told  to  you  an  untruthful  thing.  As  for 
Monsieur  Le  Beau,  he  has  all  reasons  for  saying  that  I  have 
ruined  his  life." 

"Ruined  his  grandmother!"  cried  the  other.  "  There  you 
are,  looking  meek  again.  No  wonder  that  all  men  are  bullies 
when  we  turn  coward  at  the  first  frown.  I  thank  Heaven  it 
was  no  man,  however,  that  made  those  scars  on  you.  If  it  had 
been  —  "  She  stopped  short,  looking  so  fierce  that  Yuki  had 
to  smile  at  her.  "  Well,  Amazon  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Oh,  I  hate  all  men! — young  ones  in  particular.  Pierre 
thinks  his  heart  is  bleeding,  but,  after  all,  it  is  chiefly  his  pre- 
cious vanity.  He  don't  like  being  jilted!  Subtract  vanity  from 
the  average  man  and  you  don't  leave  much  beside  the  fillings 
of  his  front  teeth.  They  are  all  alike !  I  know  them  ! "  She 
flung  herself  to  the  sofa  and  clasped  her  arms  once  more 
tightly  around  her  friend.  The  outburst  had  relieved  her  ; 
but  a  new  sadness  came.  Yuki  was  still  very  pale.  A  little 
pathetic  drooping  had  begun  to  show  at  the  corners  of  her  lips. 
Gwendolen  was  by  nature  the  antagonist  of  resignation.  She 
hated  the  dawning  look  of  it  on  Yuki's  face.  "  Yuki,  Yuki, 
shall  we  ever  be  happy  again  as  we  were  at  school  ?  Yet 
we  were  restless  there.  All  our  thoughts  flew  westward,  far,  far 
westward,  and  over  that  broad  ocean,  to  your  Japan.  We 
could  never  be  really  happy,  we  thought,  until  we  had  reached, 
together,  this  country  of  your  birth.  Oh,  it  is  beautiful,  as 
you  told  me!  Each  day  its  beauty  deepens.  I  know  now 
what  you  meant  by  yama-buki  fountains  all  of  gold,  —  and 
the  wide,  still  yellow  lakes  of  '  na.'  In  our  Legation  garden 
the  cherry -trees  are  crusted  over  with  tiny  pointed  rubies, 
which  soon  —  yes,  very  soon  —  must  turn  to  flowers.  All  that 
I  see  is  beautiful,  and  yet,  Yuki,  think  in  how  short  a  time 
life  has  brought  us  both  deep  sorrow  !  "  She  drew  a  sigh,  the 
long,  luxurious,  despairing  sigh  of  untried  youth.  Yuki, 
having  griefs  more  real,  echoed  it  in  softer  cadence. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       279 

"  Yes,  the  cherry-buds  will  open,  and  the  fountain  of  your 
yama-buki  toss,  no  matter  what  we  are  feeling !  Is  it  not 
kind  to  be  so  ?  I  have  heard  that  your  Legation  garden  is  not 
very  —  harmonious.  Will  there  be  many  bright  spring  flow- 
ers in  it  ?  " 

"  The  garden  is  a  blot,  but  it  is  a  big  blot,  and  things  grow 
there,  thank  Heaven !  Have  n't  you  ever  been  to  the  American 
Legation  at  all?  Yuki,  I  have  an  idea! " 

"No,"  Yuki  had  answered.  At  the  new  sparkle  of  excite- 
ment in  the  fair  face  she  unconsciously  sat  more  erect. 

"I  have  an  idea!"  Gwendolen  repeated.  "You  are  now 
your  own  mistress.  Why  can't  you  drive  home  with  me,  and 
give  mother  a  surprise  ?  Nothing  would  soften  her  like  that,  — 
the  Princess  Hagane  to  call  in  person  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will  do  that  thing! "  cried  Yuki,  taking  fire  at 
once.  "  How  clever  you  are,  Gwendolen  !  I  would  sit  here 
mourning  for  the  month  and  not  have  such  bright  idea.  I  tell 
you,  listen !  We  will  send  your  jinrikisha  off,  then  you  stays 
to  luncheon  with  me,  and  after  luncheon  we  takes  the  pump- 
kin and  some  rats  and  turn  them  into  a  great  coach  with 
horses,  and  drive  off  in  splendor,  like  two  little  Cinderellas, 
to  your  mother's  house!  Oh,  what  jolliness!  let  us  go  up- 
stairs and  remove  your  hat !  " 

"  What ! "  cried  the  other,  in  mock  astonishment,  "  you  have 
an  upstairs,  and  beds  for  me  to  fling  my  wraps  upon,  and  a 
brush  and  comb,  perhaps,  for  me  to  rearrange  my  locks !  " 

"  Come  see ! "  challenged  Yuki.  They  ran  off  together, 
Yuki  darting  up  the  steps,  Gwendolen  catching  at  her  fly- 
ing heels,  both  laughing,  giggling,  uttering  short  shrieks. 
"  Well,"  panted  the  American,  sitting  prone  upon  the  top 
step,  "  it  seems  that  life  is  going  to  be  worth  living  after  all !  " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

EXCEPT  in  rare  cases  the  ceremony  of  marriage  among  Jap- 
anese is  still  unmodified  by  foreign  innovation.  These  people 
prefer  to  regard  it  as  the  most  intimate  of  social  functions,  a 
family  sacrament,  a  transition  to  be  made  in  grave  silence,  not 
in  the  buzz  of  comment.  Congratulations  may  follow,  they 
never  precede,  a  wedding. 

In  the  case  of  Prince  Hagane,  his  official  necessity  for  a  wife 
appeared  significantly  enough  in  the  engraved  cards  of  invita- 
tion, sent  out  by  hundreds,  to  announce  weekly  receptions 
(beginning  with  a  certain  Friday)  held  by  the  Prince  and 
Princess  Sanetomo  Hagane  in  the  residence  of  the  Minister  of 
War.  That  word  "  War,"  printed  so  smoothly  among  high- 
sounding  titles,  bore  little  relation  to  the  dark  clouds  of  conflict 
pouring  in  about  Port  Arthur  and  spreading  a  sombre  pall 
above  Manchuria.  Dark,  too,  was  the  shadow  cast  upon  the 
hearts  of  loyal  Nipponese.  For  a  lull  had  come,  a  mysterious 
silence.  Explanations  were  not  offered  to  the  people.  Dead 
bodies  or  fragments  of  bodies,  were  still  brought  home  for 
burial;  new  troops,  by  midnight,  threaded  city  streets  and 
crowded  the  railway  stations,  bound  for  the  front,  yet  no  sounds 
of  battle  came.  It  was  as  if  a  wheel  had  stopped,  throwing 
out  the  entire  mechanism  of  a  well-ordered  campaign.  At  the 
Imperial  Palace  in  Tokio  conferences  were  held  daily,  Hagane, 
of  course,  being  present.  Sometimes  Sir  Charles  Grubb  and 
his  American  colleague  were  called. 

Yuki  noted  the  deepening  gloom  on  her  husband's  brow.  In 
his  scant  hours  of  home-staying  he  seemed,  now,  only  half- 
conscious  of  her  existenqe  or  its  relation  to  himself.  Once  or 
twice  he  had  roused  himself  to  answer  kindly  enough  some 
question  of  hers  regarding  the  coming  reception. 

Meanwhile  Gwendolen  and  the  young  wife  were  together 
daily.  The  "  old  times  "  at  Washington,  to  which  they  so  often 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       281 

tenderly  referred,  as  to  an  epoch  centuries  removed,  gave 
promise  of  recrudescence.  They  laughed,  giggled,  ate  olives, 
made  fudge,  and  otherwise  enjoyed  themselves.  If  the 
absence  of  Pierre  and  the  buoyant  Dodge  saddened  at  times 
these  innocuous  revelries,  each  girl  hid  her  own  regret. 

Mrs.  Todd,  as  Gwendolen  prophesied,  had  melted  instantly. 
The  friendly  visit  of  the  Princess  Hagane,  the  gentle  pleading 
of  the  schoolgirl  Yuki,  unchanged  in  spite  of  her  new  glitter- 
ing husk  of  rank,  surprised  that  small  camp  of  prejudices 
in  its  sleep,  and  soon  waved  a  bright  laugh  of  victory.  At 
the  next  visit  of  Mrs.  Stunt,  however,  before  the  Medusa- 
like  disapprobation  of  that  noble  countenance,  Mrs.  Todd 
froze  timidly  again,  to  be  again  sun-thawed  by  Yuki,  and 
recongealed  by  Mrs.  Stunt,  until  the  will-power  of  the  good 
lady  took  on,  through  too  frequent  tempering,  not,  indeed, 
the  elasticity  of  a  Damascene  blade,  but  rather  the  pithiness 
of  an  honest  vegetable  left  in  a  winter  nook. 

During  a  softened  interval  Mrs.  Todd  had  promised  to  stand 
in  Yuki's  receiving  line.  Even  at  the  moment  she  had  given 
a  few  sentimental  sighs  for  Pierre,  and  made  a  mental  reser- 
vation that  she  would  "explain  "to  his  satisfaction.  When 
Mrs.  Stunt  turned  a  hard,  reproving  eye,  she  fain  would  have 
rescinded  altogether,  but  this  time  both  Mr.  Todd  and  Gwen- 
dolen upheld  her.  Thus  bravely  seconded,  she  dared  for  once 
defy  her  mentor.  Mrs.  Stunt  made  gestures  of  acrid  resigna- 
tion, and  turned  her  face  away.  During  the  afternoon  she 
concocted  several  choice  paragraphs  for  "  The  Hawk's  Eye." 

A  clear,  blue  day  in  early  March  dawned  for  Yuki's  first 
reception.  Sunshine  coaxed  new  flowers  from  the  springing 
lawn,  and  rolled  apples  of  joyous  discord  among  the  crows  and 
sparrows.  The  two  chief  decorators,  Gwendolen  and  Yuki, 
had  not  dared  to  rely  on  the  day  for  external  brightness. 
Draperies  added  to  the  long  shapeless  windows  hung  ready  to 
exclude  sunshine  and  storm  alike.  At  Gwendolen's  sugges- 
tion, candles  and  quaint  candelabra  were  to  give  the  key-note 
to  decoration.  Old  junk-shops  and  second-hand  dealers  in 
temple  brasses  had  been  rummaged  with  rich  results.  Branch- 
ing clusters  of  tapers  sprang  everywhere  from  plain  spaces  on 
the  walls.  Standing  candelabra  and  quaint  single  candle- 


282  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

sticks  occupied  tables,  mantels,  and  the  tops  of  cabinets  and 
book-shelves,  alternating  with  bowls  and  vases  of  cut  flowers. 
The  wall-lights,  placed  tactfully  but  a  few  feet  above  the 
head  of  an  average  man,  threw  into  softened  shadow  the  vast 
and  disproportionate  ceiling.  Yuki's  delight  was  pleasant  to 
witness.  She  never  could  have  dreamed  —  as  she  often  told 
her  friend  —  that  the  old  lecture-hall  could  look  so  well.  The 
garish  hangings  and  unspeakable  oil-paintings  became  incon- 
spicuous, and  were  further  softened  by  wreaths  of  sinilax 
and  other  imported  hot-house  vines.  As  the  opening  hour 
approached,  Yuki  became  more  and  more  excited,  though  her 
efforts  after  matronly  calm  were  apparent.  Even  the  knowl- 
edge that  Pierre  would  certainly  come  that  afternoon  should 
not  daunt  her.  Nothing  had  been  heard  from  him  since  that 
one  interview  at  Kamakura.  Of  this  Yuki  had  not  spoken, 
not  even  to  Gwendolen.  Well,  let  him  come,  and  give  her 
pain !  She  deserved  it !  Still  would  friends  be  left,  Gwen- 
dolen, and  Mr.  Todd,  and  the  dear  mother,  Iriya,  and  —  and 
her  husband,  Hagane.  Her  troubled  heart  faced  round  to 
him,  but  it  was  as  if  she  stood  before  a  stone  precipice.  He 
was  too  great ;  she  too  close. 

All  through  the  forenoon  of  that  busy  day  presents  had 
been  arriving.  The  flood-gates  of  official  recognition  had  been 
thrown  wide.  Gifts  of  flowers,  of  fruit  in  wonderful  baskets, 
of  growing  plants  in  exquisitely  glazed  hana-bachi,  came  in 
embarrassing  confusion.  Baron  Tsukeru,  who  united  a  passion 
for  Japanese  peonies  to  a  more  exotic  devotion  to  orchids, 
sent  a  great  lacquered  tray  heaped  with  broken  rainbows, 
hoar-frost,  and  strange,  flying  insects  turned  to  flowers.  Old 
Prince  Shirota,  who  had  been  present  at  their  marriage,  sent 
to  the  prince  and  his  new  princess  a  box  of  eggs,  together 
with  a  humorous  poem,  saying,  "  May  each  smooth  egg  betoken 
a  life  of  wedded  happiness,  and  may  each  year  bring  an  heir. 
So  shall  joy  and  the  house  of  Hagane  be  immortal ! "  A  cabinet 
minister  sent  a  case  of  champagne,  also  with  a  poem  ;  but  his 
was  paraphrased  from  Tennyson.  Sweetmeats,  oranges,  and 
loose  flowers  came  literally  by  cartloads. 

The  great  central  offering,  however,  was  a  heap  of  exquis- 
itely wrought  confection  representing  blue  waves,  with  a  pair 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       283 

of  Miyako-dori,  birds  symbolic  of  conjugal  felicity,  float- 
ing upon  the  sugared  sea.  This  gift,  placed  reverently  upon  a 
little  table  to  itself,  needed  no  card.  Upon  the  unpainted 
side  of  the  satin-wood  box  in  which  it  was  fashioned,  shone 
the  Imperial  insignia,  a  gold  chrysanthemum  with  sixteen 
petals. 

The  master,  twice  during  the  forenoon,  had  rolled  up  to  the 
door  in  his  carriage,  gone  into  his  private  office,  closed  the 
doors  tightly,  and  busied  himself  with  desk-drawers  and 
papers.  In  a  few  moments  he  emerged  and  drove  away  with- 
out having  spoken.  On  a  third  visit,  he  came  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, in  search  of  Yuki.  She  and  Gwendolen  were  at  the 
far  end,  both  looking  upward  and  talking  (one  in  English, 
one  in  Japanese)  to  a  bewildered  servant  on  a  stepladder, 
who  paused  to  listen,  his  face  copper-yellow  among  the  loops 
of  smilax.  Neither  heard  Hagane  until  he  was  fairly  upon 
them.  Yuki  gave  a  start ;  but  Gwendolen  brought  down  level 
eyes  and  smiled  at  him.  He  spoke  first  to  the  guest,  holding 
her  hand  closely  for  an  instant,  and  uttering  some  conven- 
tional, though,  in  this  case,  sincere  expressions  of  gratitude 
for  her  kindness  to  Yuki.  He  then  asked  of  Yuki  the  exact 
hour  at  which  the  reception  was  to  commence.  He  spoke  in 
English.  "Four,  your  Highness,"  answered  Yuki,  in  the 
same  tongue.  "  I  shall  be  in  this  apartment  at  four,"  he 
said,  and  then  took  his  departure. 

The  two  friends  watched  through  the  window  as  he  stepped 
under  the  porte  cochere  and  entered  the  carriage. 

"Your  husband  is  a  king  among  men,  my  Yuki." 

"  It  does  not  become  a  Japanese  wife  to  admit  so." 

"  The  hair  he  leaves  on  his  barber's  floor  tingles  with  more 
manliness  than  the  whole  body  of  Pierre  Le  Beau." 

"  It  does  not  become  the  one  who  has  made  Pierre  suffer  to 
say  so." 

"  Pshaw !  Nonsense !  He  enjoys  his  suffering.  But  of 
course  I  might  have  known  you  would  make  some  such  retort. 
Do  you  want  me  to  try  to  keep  him  away  from  you  this  after- 
noon, or  is  it  part  of  your  penitence  to  assist  him  in  insulting 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  help  keep  away,  if  you  can !  "  gasped  Yuki.    "  Prince 


284  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Hagane  will  be  standing  by  me  then.  I  wish  most  of  all  for 
him  not  to  be  annoyed." 

"I  wonder  whether  you  realize,  small  Princess  — "  Gwen- 
dolen began,  then  suddenly  stopped.  Her  look,  as  she  scru- 
tinized the  upturned  face,  was  singular;  her  tone,  more 
curious  still.  She  closed  her  lips  tightly  now,  as  if  to  forbid 
the  thought  to  come,  shook  her  blonde  head,  and  facing  back 
to  the  window  tapped  a  hollow  rhythm  on  the  pane. 

Yuki's  cheeks  grew  hot.  "  Some  one  —  some  one  need  me, 
I  think,"  she  murmured,  and  literally  ran  from  the  room. 

Prince  Hagane,  punctual  to  the  instant,  fresh  from  the 
hands  of  his  man-servant,  impressive,  unforgetable,  in  dark 
native  robes  of  silk,  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  receiving 
line.  Yuki  wore  a  robe  and  obi  of  splendid  brocade,  too  heavy 
for  an  unmarried  woman,  but  now  befitting  the  dignity  of  a 
peeress.  The  colors  were  her  favorite  gray  and  pink,  shot 
through  with  threads  of  silver.  In  her  dark  hair  were  pink 
orchids,  the  living  flowers.  She  wore  no  jewelry  but  a  broad 
gold  band  on  her  wedding  finger,  —  a  concession  to  her  Chris- 
tian principles,  — and  a  clasp  to  her  obi-dome,  or  flat  silken  cord 
which  holds  the  great  folds  in  place.  This  clasp  represented 
intertwisted  dragons.  Like  the  ivory  pin  which  she  and  Pierre 
had  broken,  it  was  an  heirloom  in  her  father's  family. 

The  new  kinswoman,  little  Princess  Sada-ko,  was  to  be  near 
her,  above  Gwendolen  in  the  line,  but  lower  than  the  matron, 
Mrs.  Todd.  Mr.  Todd  had  "  begged  off."  So  also  had  Yuki's 
parents.  Onda,  in  fact,  spurred  by  his  dread  of  meeting 
foreigners,  found  good  pretext  for  visiting  a  village  nearly  a 
day's  ride  away. 

Guests  had  not  begun  to  arrive.  Even  the  Todds  (Gwen- 
dolen had  gone  home  two  hours  before  to  change  her  dress)  had 
not  yet  made  appearance.  Hagane  stood  quietly  in  his  place, 
and  let  his  gaze  move  slowly  through  the  changed  and  deco- 
rated rooms.  The  candles  gleamed  with  intense  yet  softened 
brilliancy.  In  an  adjoining  parlor  he  could  see  the  corner  of 
a  long  table  spread  with  rich  food.  Servants  in  livery  moved 
about,  noiseless  as  shadows.  A  distant  door  was  opened. 
The  flames  of  the  candles  leaned  all  one  way,  fretted  a  little, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       285 

then  stood  upright.  A  few  drops  of  wax  trickled  over  to  the 
floor.  Instantly  a  servant  came  with  knife  and  saucer  to 
scrape  up  the  hardening  substance. 

The  old  Prince  Shirota  sat  in  a  low  chair  near  the  fire,  with 
a  late  American  magazine  on  his  silken  knees.  Iriya  hovered 
near,  devouring  with  proud  eyes  this  vision  of  her  daughter 
consorting  on  equal  terms  with  princes.  Servants  stole  every- 
where, soft,  sleek,  gentle,  like  well-fed  animals. 

A  curious  expression  grew  in  the  eyes  of  Hagane.  His 
mouth  writhed  into  a  harsh  and  ugly  smile  which  did  not  pass. 
Yuki  felt  the  change  in  him,  glanced  up,  and  shrank  a  few 
inches  further  from  his  side.  He  did  not  notice  her.  He  had 
been  reading,  but  a  few  hours  before,  the  written  report  of  a 
Japanese  spy,  one  of  the  few  who  had  escaped  alive  from  the 
very  citadel  of  Port  Arthur.  The  conditions  of  that  for- 
tress were  plainly  stated:  food  in  abundance,  ammunition, 
men,  stone  walls  practically  impregnable,  a  brave  man  in 
command,  —  all  things  in  Russian  favor ;  and  yet  by  Japanese 
life  that  stronghold  must  be  taken,  by  death  the  national 
honor  be  restored.  As  their  Emperor  read,  and  laid  the  paper 
down,  he  had  bent  his  head,  as  if  praying,  and  one  hand  had 
covered  his  down-bent  eyes.  Hagane  shivered  at  that  memory. 
Hunger,  privation,  cold,  the  agony  of  wounds  untended,  the 
deeper  agony  of  remembered  little  ones  soon  to  be  fatherless, 
praying  now  in  distant  mountain  villages,  —  this  must  the 
Japanese  know  to  full  measure.  Food  and  shelter  in  Man- 
churia could  alleviate,  and  for  such  alleviation,  money  was  the 
only  aid.  Food,  clothing,  shelter,  ammunition !  Why,  the 
very  candles  fanning  out  a  brief  existence  on  these  walls 
would  feed  a  brave  battalion  for  a  week  !  The  table  yonder, 
spread  with  delicacies  for  foreigners  already  gorged,  —  that 
long  table  would  bring  peace  nearer  by  a  hundred  cannon  de- 
tonations. The  outer  world,  civilization  so-called,  demanded 
that  tawdry  ostentation  still  show  her  front. 

"  My  Lord  —  your  Highness,"  whispered  Yuki,  barely  touch- 
ing his  sleeve,  "  has  aught  offended  you  ?  " 

He  looked  down  into  her  anxious  face.  His  noble  scorn 
melted  into  sadness.  "Nay,  Yuki,  I  was  but  counting  the 
lives  of  soldiers  by  these  candles  on  the  wall." 


286  THE  BREATH  OP  THE  GODS 

"  Lord,  so  have  I  thought,  even  to  the  point  of  weeping ; 
yet  you  had  told  me  to  make  some  display,  to  have  things 
fair  to  look  on." 

"  I  blame  you  not,  my  good  child.  There  is  no  fault  at  all 
in  you;  yet  the  smell  of  that  rich  food  sickens  me.  I  long 
to  be  in  the  field  with  men ;  to  share  their  handful  of  cold 
rice,  their  shred  of  salted  fish.  I  hate  the  silk  upon  me, 
the  soft  rug  at  my  feet,  the  smiling  servants,  —  how  can  they 
smile  ?  "When  the  foreign  manikins  arrive,  it  will  be  hard 
fighting  for  me  not  to  laugh  at  them,  —  to  throw,  like  some 
stung  cuttle-fish,  the  inky  substance  of  my  scorn  —  why 
should  they  laugh  and  feast  ?  But,  little  one,  I  rave.  You 
have  never  heard  the  old  volcano  growl  before  ?  Well,  I 
shall  be  calm  now ;  let  us  draw  pink  clouds  about  me,  and 
set  spring  flowers  among  the  fissures  of  my  soul." 

"  I  fear  you  not,  my  Lord,  I  but  adore  your  spirit.  I, 
too,  in  my  weak  woman's  way,  have  had  a  thought.  Shall  we 
not  purchase  less  rich  food  another  time,  and  fewer  candles  ? 
Instead,  I  shall  buy  thread  and  cloth  and  cotton.  I  will  this 
very  day  invite  the  women  here  to  weekly  meeting  for  sewing. 
Princess  Sada  has  been  telling  me  that  many  are  already 
started.  We  can  make  bandages,  clothing,  cover  for  your 
brave  men.  Into  the  texture  we  shall  weave  our  very  hearts. 
Tears  of  pity  may,  indeed,  soothe  noble  wounds  no  less  than 
the  ointment  of  our  surgeons.  Shall  it  not  be  so,  my  husband  ? 
May  I  speak  to  my  friends  to-day  ?  " 

Hagane  had  lifted  one  hand  to  his  mouth  while  she  made 
eager  speech.  It  was  steady  enough  when  he  answered. 
"  You  have  pleased  me,  little  one,  greatly  have  you  pleased 
me.  I  shall  speak  of  this  even  to  our  Sacred  Sovereigns." 

Gwendolen  came  bounding  in  like  a  child.  "  Do  you  recog- 
nize me,  Yuki?  "  she  cried,  pitching  her  long  cloak  backward. 
"  Of  course  Prince  Hagane  would  not." 

She  stood  before  the  two,  a  shimmering  vision  of  white, 
touched  at  intervals  by  gleams  of  primrose  hue.  Hagane 
smiled.  "  If  I  mistake  not  greatly,  it  is  the  entire  costume 
worn  by  Miss  Todd  when  first  I  was  honored  to  make  her 
acquaintance.  You  called  the  ball  a  debutante's  I  think." 

"Heavens,  Yuki,  think  of  his  remembering!     I  see  now, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS     287 

Prince  Hagane,  that  you  are  truly  a  great  man.  What  on 
earth  have  you  been  doing  to  your  prince  ?  "  she  added  in  a 
lower  tone,  as  Hagane  stepped  forward  to  greet  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Todd.  "He  doesn't  look  a  day  over  thirty -five,  and  hand- 
some —  He  is  the  noblest-looking  man  that  ever  I  saw ! " 

Mrs.  Todd,  resplendent  in  her  favorite  mauve  satin,  violently 
adorned  in  butter-colored  lace,  took  her  place  next  to  Yuki. 
She  liked  well  the  importance  of  the  position,  yet  kept  furtive 
glances  scurrying  toward  the  door  in  outlook  for  Pierre  and 
Mrs.  Stunt.  It  was  the  apparition  of  the  latter  that  she 
dreaded  most.  She  trembled  in  recalling  Mrs.  Stunt's  threat 
of  forbidding  and  condemnatory  conduct.  "  Not  in  Yuki's  own 
house,  my  dear  Mrs.  Stunt,"  she  had  pleaded.  "Don't  go  to 
the  reception  at  all  if  you  disapprove  so  of  their  behavior. 
Wait  until  you  meet  them  outside."  To  this  Mrs.  Stunt  had 
replied  only  by  tight  lips,  and  a  glance  of  incorruptible  virtue, 
as  one  who  should  say,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  ! "  Mrs. 
Todd  envied  her  friend  the  rigidity  of  her  moral  nature. 

Mrs.  Stunt  came  among  the  very  first.  Although  small  in 
stature,  she  never  failed  to  make  herself  conspicuous.  She  had 
acquired  an  air  of  patronage,  of  condescension.  If  a  person 
or  a  group  of  persons  continued  to  converse  within  the  first 
few  moments  of  her  appearance,  she  had  a  way  of  looking  at 
the  offenders,  of  singling  them  out,  that  was  never  thereafter 
forgotten.  On  this  occasion  she  was  resplendent  in  a  new 
gown  of  silvery  gray  silk,  very  tight  as  to  bust  and  hip,  and  a 
trifle  scanty  as  to  skirt.  A  reason  for  this  insufficiency  showed 
in  the  yokes  and  sleeves  of  the  Misses  Stunt,  lank,  timid  dam- 
sels of  fifteen  and  thirteen  respectively,  who  followed  with 
unquestioning  eyes  their  energetic  mother.  Each  had  a  pink- 
ish frock  hung  from  a  "  guimpe  "  of  silvery  gray. 

Kind-hearted  Mrs.  Todd  literally  held  her  breath  as  this 
important  person  bore,  like  a  small  nickel-plated  naphtha 
launch,  straight  to  the  dark  sea-rock  of  her  host.  The  tight 
gray  waist  had  the  sheen  of  armor.  Mrs.  Todd  watched  for 
the  steely  reflection  in  her  friend's  bright  eyes.  They  were 
now  lifted  to  the  face  of  Hagane.  But  no  !  —  barbed  light- 
nings did  not  flash  admonition  from  their  depths.  Never  were 
blue  china  beads  more  free  from  righteous  indignation  than 


288  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

those  upraised  orbs.  She  literally  grovelled,  first  at  the  feet 
of  Lord  Hagane,  then  before  his  bride.  Yuki  received  her 
gushing  compliments  with  unsmiling  lips.  This  made  no 
difference.  The  Misses  Stunt  were  then  signalled  to  grovel. 

Mrs  Todd's  mouth,  opened  in  incredulity  during  this  brief 
scene,  had  forgotten  to  close.  Something  like  indignation 
tingled  through  her  full  veins.  Was  Mrs.  Stuut  after  all  the 
hypocrite  Gwendolen  said  she  was  ?  "  Mrs.  Stunt !  "  she  called 
eagerly.  Surely  some  explanation  could  be  made. 

The  valiant  one  swept  by  her  with  a  nod.  She  gave  but 
one  short  sentence,  back-flung,  "Dear  Mrs.  Todd,  how  very 
warm  you  're  looking !  " 

Princess  Sada,  whose  title  Gwendolen  took  pains  to  enun- 
ciate distinctly,  came  in  for  her  share  of  compliment.  The 
American  girl  next  her,  half-angry,  half-hysterical  with  sup- 
pressed laughter,  was  hastily  whittling  a  mental  arrow,  her 
keen  eye  searching,  meanwhile,  for  some  weak  spot  in  the  self- 
love  of  her  foe.  Mrs.  Stunt,  scenting  trouble,  —  her  percep- 
tions in  this  regard  were  canine,  —  would  have  avoided  the 
girl,  but  farther  down  the  line  were  more  Japanese.  An- 
other princess  might  be  stowed  among  them.  Mrs.  Stunt 
could  not  relinquish  a  possible  princess.  She  gathered  up  her 
mantle  of  effrontery,  and  went  to  her  doom. 

U0h,  Mrs.  Stunt,  not  that  high,  fashionable  hand-shake 
between  old  friends,"  cried  the  clear,  sweet  voice.  Guests 
now  poured  into  the  doors.  Many  paused  to  hear  the  next 
sound  of  that  pleasing  voice.  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I 
am  that  you  have  met  at  last  my  friend  Yuki,  the  Princess 
Hagane  !  You  have  talked  so  much  about  her,  and  now  you 
have  really  met.  I  saw  Yuki's  joy  in  the  meeting.  You  were 
intoxicating  in  your  sincerity,  dear  Mrs.  Stunt,  a  pewter-mug 
literally  frothing  with  felicitations !  Why,  and  here  is  Miss 
Stunt  and  Miss  Leonora  Stunt!  Yes,  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
both;  but  move  on,  children;  you  must  get  mama  to  bring 
you  with  her  on  some  of  her  frequent  visits  to  the  Legation ! " 

Mrs.  Stunt  carried  her  tarnished  pewter  bravely  down  the 
line.  She  was  actually  dull,  leaden-toned  with  rage.  It  was 
not  so  much  Gwendolen's  impertinence  that  stung  her,  but 
the  fact  of  the  loud,  clear  voice,  pitched  for  all  to  share. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       289 

Whatever  Mrs.  Stunt's  good  opinion  of  herself,  she  could  not 
but  realize  that  most  of  those  who  overheard  rejoiced  in  the 
Stimt  humiliation. 

The  moment  she  had  spoken,  Gwendolen  regretted  it.  "  A 
mean,  tawdry,  contemptible  bit  of  revenge ! "  she  muttered  to 
herself.  "I  feel  already  nearly  as  vile  as  she."  The  girl 
looked  up  to  meet  her  father's  deep-set  eyes.  A  pathetic 
little  nioue,  a  single  pleading  gesture,  and  the  tenderness 
returned  to  them ;  but  his  first  look  rankled. 

It  had  been  decided  between  Mr.  Todd  and  his  daughter 
that  he  should  remain  near  some  door  or  window  in  the  thick 
of  arriving-time,  where  at  each  loud  carriage  entrance  he 
could  draw  aside  the  drapery  and  try  to  recognize  the  equi- 
page. When  the  French  coat-of-arms  appeared  he  was  to 
signal  Gwendolen.  Of  course  Le  Beau  would  accompany  his 
chief.  The  two  now  were  inseparable.  The  only  plan  which 
Gwendolen's  thought  had  suggested  was  to  intercept  Pierre 
at  the  door,  and  with  what  wit  and  invention  then  came  to 
her  aid,  try  to  separate  him  from  his  evil  genius,  Konsard, 
and,  if  possible,  keep  him  away  from  Yuki. 

Dodge  entered  airily  alone.  He  wore  a  crimson  carnation 
in  his  buttonhole  and  dove-gray  "  spats "  above  his  patent 
leather  shoes.  Seldom  now  did  he  accompany  the  Todd 
family  to  any  social  function.  Gwendolen  had  been  asked  by 
her  parents  the  cause  of  this  sudden  aloofness,  and  they  had 
received  in  turn  the  ambiguous  and  not  altogether  respectful 
reply,  "  How  should  I  know  ?  Am  I  our  secretary's  keeper  ?  " 

Dodge  paused  now  near  the  door  through  which  he  had 
entered.  The  rooms  were  filling  rapidly.  His  clear,  dog-like 
eyes  of  hazel  brown  threaded  the  crowd,  resting  the  fraction 
of  an  instant  on  each  form.  He  searched,  apparently,  for 
some  special  object.  Gwendolen,  in  her  pretty  debutante's 
gown  which  should,  by  rights,  have  evoked  pensive  memories, 
received  but  the  usual  light  stroke  of  observation.  The  brown 
eyes  shot  on  past  her,  swept  around  the  walls,  came  back  to 
the  door  where  the  owner  of  them  stood,  and  then  turned 
about  to  the  entrance  hall.  "  Ah ! "  said  Dodge,  under  his 
breath.  The  eagerness  of  the  sound  carried  it  to  Gwendolen's 
ear.  She  saw  him  disappear.  A  moment  later  he  re-entered 

19 


290  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

with.  Carmen  Gil  y  Niestra,  languid  and  beautiful,  in  cream 
lace  and  crimson  carnations. 

The  two  young  people  came  down  the  line  together.  Yuki 
gazed  with  some  curiosity  on  the  face  of  the  Spanish 
girl.  Gwendolen  waited  for  them.  She  held  herself  like  a 
young  Empress  receiving  coronation  felicitations.  The  white 
debutante's  dress  seemed  to  become  alive  as  Dodge  neared  it. 
One  long  tulle  fold  streamed  after  him  as  he  went  by. 
Gwendolen  caught  at  it  angrily. 

Mr.  Todd  touched  his  daughter  on  the  shoulder.  She 
slipped  out  quietly  to  the  hall-way,  threw  on  the  long  dark 
cloak  she  had  left  there  for  the  purpose,  and  was  in  the  door- 
way before  the  French  barouche  had  entirely  stopped.  Pierre 
issued  first,  and  without  having  observed  her,  stood  ready  to 
assist  his  chief.  He  gave  a  nervous  start  as  Gwendolen  touched 
him.  "Let  the  count  go  in  alone,"  she  pleaded.  "I  must 
speak  with  you." 

The  minister  now  emerged,  a  pendulous  and  unstable  bulk. 
Gwendolen  flew  to  his  side.  He  looked  into  a  face  vital  with 
excitement,  hurt  pride,  vague  apprehension.  Her  eyes  were 
fairly  black,  her  usually  pale  cheeks,  red  as  Carmen's  flowers. 
Her  beauty  smote  the  old  sensualist  with  delight.  "  Mon 
Dieu,  Mademoiselle,  but  you  are  lovely,"  he  murmured  partly 
to  himself.  Ignoring  physical  disadvantages,  he  paused  to 
make  her  a  deep  and  courtly  bow,  his  hand  pressed  reverently 
upon  that  portion  of  his  torso  where,  beneath  layers  of  un- 
healthy fat,  squatted  the  small  toad  of  his  heart  with  the 
cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  about  its  neck. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  think  me  lovely  at  this  moment,"  said 
the  girl,  coquettishly,  swallowing  hard  her  rising  disgust.  "  I 
want  you  to  help  me.  Please  go  in  without  Pierre.  Do  not 
let  the  usher  call  his  name  just  yet.  I  must  speak  alone 
with  him." 

Count  Ronsard's  admiration  was  supplemented  by  a  shrewd 
and  contaminating  look.  He  and  Pierre  crossed  glances. 
The  minister  bowed  again,  this  time  with  less  ceremony. 
"  Whatever  beauty  asks  is  already  granted." 

He  whispered  something  to  a  servant  who  had  stepped  up 
to  take  Pierre's  place.  The  servant  hurried  in  before.  Ron- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       291 

sard  climbed  heavily,  alone,  the  two  stone  steps  of  the  por- 
tico. Gwendolen  had  drawn  near  Le  Beau,  when  the  bawl  of 
the  usher,  in  a  voice  unusually  loud  and  distinct,  arrested 
her.  "  His  Excellency  Count  Ronsard,  Minister  of  France, 
Monsieur  Pierre  Le  Beau,  Second  Secretary  to  the  French 
Legation." 

Gwendolen  caught  her  breath.  Her  eyes  began  to  blaze. 
At  this  instant  Count  Ronsard,  now  on  the  top  step,  gave  a  cry, 
tottered,  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  Pierre's  agile  spring. 

"  My  ankle,  ray  infernal  ankle  !  I  have  sprained,  perhaps 
broken  it !  "  he  groaned  aloud  in  English.  "  Your  arm,  my 
son,  I  cannot  walk  alone." 

Thus  supported,  he  limped  heavily  into  the  drawing-room. 
Yuki  hurried  to  meet  him.  A  low  cushioned  chair  was 
wheeled  for  his  convenience.  He  dominated  at  once  the 
entire  assemblage.  Formal  greetings  ceased.  Half  a  dozen 
different  nationalties  crowded  in  to  inquire  about  the  accident. 
He  and  Pierre  took  turns  in  explanation.  French,  German, 
Spanish,  Italian,  English,  Japanese,  each  was  answered  cour- 
teously in  his  own  tongue.  Yuki  sent  upstairs  to  her  medicine- 
case  for  bandages  and  liniment ;  but  this  attention  the  gallant 
count  repelled.  His  boot  would  keep  the  swelling  down, 
he  said,  until  the  sick  chamber  of  his  own  house  could  be 
reached. 

Gwendolen  let  fall  her  cloak  in  the  hall  way ;  whoever 
would  might  rescue  it.  Slowly  she  entered  the  drawing-room, 
paused  near  the  interesting  group  about  the  sufferer,  and  stood 
watching,  her  whole  slight  frame  in  a  hot  tingle  with  impotent 
anger.  No  mark  of  pain  rested  on  the  flabby  countenance  of 
Ronsard.  Pierre  looked  far  more  ill.  This  fact  but  added  to 
Gwendolen's  uneasiness.  Yuki  had  a  tender  heart  for  human 
suffering.  She  heard  the  count's  brave  self-control  admired, 
and  her  disgust  turned  to  a  mental  nausea.  For  the  moment 
no  counter-stroke  occurred  to  her.  Even  the  keen  eyes  of 
Prince  Hagane  were,  apparently,  deceived.  He  stood  near  the 
Frenchman  expressing  grave  concern.  Yuki,  perforce,  re- 
mained within  calling  of  her  afflicted  guest.  Hagane  at 
length  moved  off.  Pierre,  Ronsard,  and  Yuki  were  together, 
a  meeting  that  Gwendolen  had  striven  against,  and  plotted  to 


292  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

prevent.  Gwendolen  fancied  that  her  schoolmate  already 
turned  more  wan,  that  she  trembled  and  shrank  from  the  low 
words  that  were  spoken.  She  was  a  white  dove  picked  upon 
by  vultures.  Mrs.  Stunt  stood  across  the  room  gleaning  items 
with  her  steely  gaze. 

Discomfited,  utterly  worsted,  Gwendolen  trailed  slow  steps 
down  the  lighted  vista.  She  longed  for  her  father,  but  now 
he  and  Prince  Hagane  had  begun  to  talk.  A  vacant  window, 
half-hidden  in  trailing  vines,  allured  her.  She  hurried  to  it, 
threw  aside  the  curtain,  and  looked  out  into  the  deepening 
twilight.  All  of  this  fair  March  day  had  been  blue  and  wind- 
less. The  night  was  a  bowl  of  liquid  sapphire,  a  deep  aerial 
sea  into  which  the  house  had  been  lowered,  like  a  great  illu- 
minated bell.  So  tangible,  so  intense,  was  the  outer  blueness 
that  it  seemed  to  Gwendolen,  should  she  lift  the  sash  an  inch, 
a  gentian  tide  must  gurgle  in  through  the  fissure,  steal  along 
the  wall  to  the  shadowy  floor,  and  silently  fill  the  long  rooms 
with  a  purple  flood. 

That  moment  brought  to  the  girl  her  first  tinge  of  worldly 
bitterness.  Heretofore,  with  the  one  exception  of  her  quarrel, 
things  had  seemed  naturally  to  come  right  just  because  she 
wished  it.  Even  in  dreams,  things  always  came  right  for  her. 
Now,  by  some  shabby  turn  of  fortune,  the  reverse  was  true ; 
failure  marked  every  effort.  Being  young,  healthy,  and 
totally  unacquainted  with  real  sorrow,  it  was  inevitable  that 
she  should  luxuriate  in  an  imaginary  despair.  She  stared  into 
the  night,  envying  its  cool  blue  depths  of  silence  and  oblivion. 
She  raised  long  lashes  to  the  stars,  gleaming  faintly  now  like 
small  phosphorescent  mushrooms  springing  on  a  damp  blue 
field,  and  wondered,  sighing,  whether  on  those  distant  planets 
lived  any  girl  so  miserable  as  she. 

"Miss  Todd,"  murmured  a  low  voice.  She  wheeled  back 
to  the  lighted  room  with  a  gesture  so  sudden  that  two  large 
tears  splashed  upon  her  cheeks.  Dodge  stood  beside  her  half- 
abashed,  altogether  eager,  deeply  flushed  by  the  late  battle 
with  his  pride.  Gwendolen's  heart  gave  a  bound  toward  him, 
then  sank  down  whimpering.  The  girl,  too,  felt  an  over- 
whelming need  for  tears.  One  kind  word  more  from  Dodge, 
one  faint  concession  on  her  part,  and  she  must  surrender 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       293 

utterly,  bend  down  with  her  face  hidden,  and  sob  out  her 
anxieties  and  her  relief.  Oh,  if  they  were  but  alone,  and 
she  could  "  make  up  "  as  she  longed  to  do  !  But  now,  because 
all  eyes  might  turn  to  them,  because  she  had  not  the  self-con- 
trol to  explain,  his  tenderness  must  be  met  by  scorn,  in  self- 
protection  she  must  lash  herself  to  stoicism  by  blows  rained 
on  him.  She  drew  herself  upright.  He  could  not  see  how 
feverishly  one  primrose-colored  hand  clutched  the  window- 
frame.  "  You  have  —  mis-taken  your  —  corner,  Mr.  Dodge," 
she  jerked  out  in  a  voice  that  needed  to  balance  every  word, 
like  an  acrobat  on  a  wire.  "  Miss  Niestra  is,  I  think,  in  an- 
other part  of  the  room." 

"  I  have,  as  you  say,  mistaken  the  corner.  I  shall  not  offend 
again,"  said  Dodge. 

The  girl's  heart  called  out  after  him.  She  bit  her  lips  to 
keep  back  the  gush  of  tears.  "  Now  he  will  hate  me  forever 
and  ever !  He  '11  never  want  to  speak  to  me  again, "  she  told 
herself.  She  threw  her  head  back,  and  stepped  out  into  the 
light.  Scrutiny  would  help  to  steady  her.  Count  Ronsard 
still  held  court,  his  two  attendants  being  Pierre  and  Yuki. 
Gwendolen's  generous  heart  flared  into  new  anger  for  her 
friend.  "  What  are  my  stings  to  Yuki's !  "  she  cried  to  her- 
self. "  Those  two  men  are  devils  to  torture  a  woman  as  I 
know  they  are  doing !  "  Gwendolen  felt  a  sense  of  returning 
energy.  She  had  found  a  definite  task. 

Count  Ronsard,  who  flattered  himself  that  he  understood  all 
women,  to  whom  raw  debutantes  were  as  glass  candy  jars  in  a 
village  shop-window,  felt  a  little  surprise,  perhaps  even  a 
little  excitement,  as  Gwendolen,  smiling  like  a  tall  white 
angel,  bore  down  upon  him,  and  announced,  in  her  sweetest 
voice,  that  she  had  come  to  "  keep  him  company."  Enlighten- 
ment and  a  challenge  lay  in  her  two  next  sentences.  "  Bring 
me  that  footstool,  Pierre.  Yuki,  darling,  let  me  take  your 
place  now  as  ministering  angel  to  the  count.  Other  guests 
may  need  you." 

Like  a  snowy  bird  of  Paradise  flecked  with  gold,  she 
perched  beside  the  caged  Frenchman.  He  saw  through  her 
feint  as  clearly  as  she  had  seen  through  his.  Having  avowed 
himself  incapable  of  walking,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  remain 


294  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

where  he  was,  or  to  return  home.  In  sheer  intellectual  delight 
at  the  girl's  wit  and  daring,  he  yielded  himself  to  her  snare. 
Her  sentences  enwrapped  him  in  bright  skeins.  Excitement 
gave  her  pungency.  She  realized  that  she  had  never  talked 
so  well,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  it  regretted  that  it  had  to  be 
wasted  on  an  "  old  pig."  Pierre  hovered  about  sullenly  until 
released  by  a  nod  from  his  chief.  No  further  speech  did  he 
obtain  with  Yuki.  Gwendolen  noted,  with  malicious  satisfac- 
tion, how  close  the  young  wife  kept  to  her  husband's  side,  how 
tenderly  the  great  man  leaned  and  spoke  with  her.  Together 
they  now  moved  through  the  crowded  rooms,  delivering  invi- 
tations to  the  sewing-meeting  on  the  following  Monday,  the 
first  to  be  held.  The  air  of  the  room  crackled  to  eager  accep- 
tances. Mrs.  Stunt's  was  the  explosion  of  a  small  torpedo. 
Tranquillity  and  her  usual  pale-rose  flush  came  back  to  the 
face  of  the  little  princess.  Gwendolen's  sparkling  eyes  jeered 
light  into  those  of  Count  Konsard.  The  man  was  a  great 
man  in  his  distorted  way.  As  yet  life's  greatest  values 
were,  for  him,  of  the  mind.  Rising  at  last  with  ostentatious 
and  smothered  groans,  as  he  prepared  to  limp  to  his  waiting 
carriage,  he  gave  the  girl  her  meed  of  praise.  "Mademoi- 
selle," he  said  gravely,  "  it  would  be  a  happy  day  for  France 
were  you  to  become  the  wife  of  one  of  her  diplomats." 

"  Merci,"  said  Gwendolen,  with  a  French  curtey.  "  The 
profession  allures  me,  but  —  an  American  diplomat  will  be 
good  enough  for  me !  " 


CHAPTEE   TWENTY-THREE 

A  SHORT  whispered  colloquy  between  Hagane,  the  little 
Princess  Sada-ko,  and  Yuki,  during  the  reception,  a  few 
days  before,  resulted  in  the  decision  that  the  Japanese  ladies 
should  be  asked  to  come  quite  early  to  the  sewing  party; 
the  foreign  contingent  to  be  bidden  later,  about  one  in  the 
afternoon.  To  all  Japanese  the  early  hours  of  the  day 
are  best.  Yuki  knew  that  this  was  not  the  case  with  for- 
eigners. Besides,  to  have  served  a  hot  foreign  luncheon  to 
an  indefinite  number  of  guests  would  have  taken  from  the 
purpose  of  such  a  meeting  most  of  its  charitable  intent,  and, 
very  likely,  all  of  the  material  profit.  The  simplest  of  Jap- 
anese collations,  —  a  bowl  of  thin  fish  soup,  rice,  tea,  a  fairy 
dish  of  pickles,  one  sweetmeat,  maybe,  this  could  be  served 
with  propriety  to  the  Empress  herself,  had  that  gracious 
lady  been  present.  These  women  worked  for  their  own 
hero  soldiers,  for  their  own  adored  Nippon.  Their  utmost 
efforts  were  privileges;  what  the  foreign  ladies  gave  might, 
among  themselves,  be  considered  alms. 

When  all  had  arrived,  that  is,  the  foreigners  as  well  as  Jap- 
anese, they  were  to  be  given  for  entertainment,  music  of  the 
two  worlds.  First,  English  songs  from  a  charming  soprano,  a 
Mrs.  Wyndham  of  Yokohama,  justly  celebrated  in  the  East, 
as  in  her  own  land,  for  an  unusually  pure  and  lovely  voice. 
For  Japanese  they  were  to  have  improvisation  and  martial 
chanting  from  a  Satsuma  biwa  player,  a  court  musician  in 
highest  favor  with  their  Majesties.  The  lending  of  him  to 
Yuki  for  this  meeting  had  been  a  royal  answer  to  Hagane's 
modest  statement  of  his  young  wife's  plan. 

The  Japanese  ladies,  mostly  of  the  noble  class,  began  to 
arrive  before  the  blue  morning  mists  had  quite  lifted  from 
the  long,  gleaming  surfaces  of  castle  moats ;  before  the  wild 
white  herons,  perching  on  great  down-sweeping  arms  of  castle 


296  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

pines,  had  warmed  their  chilly  feathers  to  the  skin  ;  before 
the  budding  cherry-boughs  had  dared  unfold  a  single  dripping 
leaf.  By  eight  o'clock  that  end  of  the  huge  upstairs  hall  set 
apart  for  their  exclusive  use  had  few  vacant  places.  The 
Japanese  ladies  brought  scissors,  thimble,  and  needles;  ma- 
terial and  thread  were  contributed  by  Prince  Hagane.  Yuki's 
mother  was  among  the  first.  Iriya  grew  younger  and  prettier 
with  each  day,  in  this  new  pride  and  happiness  won  through 
her  only  child.  She  had  not  brought  the  servants.  Yuki 
insisted  that  they  be  sent  for.  They  came  as  upon  the 
chariot  of  the  wind,  released  by  a  gruff  sound  of  acqui- 
escence from  their  master,  their  blue  sleeves  flying  hori- 
zontally in  the  morning  air.  Little  Maru,  whose  excessive 
love  for  candy  kept  her  in  a  condition  of  pink  rotundity, 
gasped  joyously  for  breath.  "  Ma-a-a  ! "  she  cried  at  first 
sight  of  a  courtyard  filled  with  crested  kuruma  ;  and 
"Ma-a-a!"  again,  as  she  tripped  on  the  top  step  and  fell 
full-length  into  the  hall  ;  and  "  Ma-a-a  !  "  once  more  as  the 
obliging  butler  stooped  to  rescue  her,  until  Suzume,  frown- 
ing heavily,  called  her  a  beau-curd,  and  bade  her  cease 
exclaiming. 

It  was  a  gentle  company  that  worked  in  the  upper  hall. 
Shining  black  heads  bent  as  one  above  tumultuous  yards 
of  white  cotton  cloth.  The  peculiar  odor  of  cambric  and 
unbleached  domestic  was  mixed  with  Japanese  perfumes  of 
sandalwood  and  incense,  and  with  the  unique  aroma  of 
hair-oil  made  from  camellia  berries.  Work  went  on  steadily. 
Great  white  towers  of  bandages  were  finished,  and  removed 
by  servant-maids,  who  staggered,  laughed,  and  joked  softly, 
as  they  bore  the  tottering  burdens  to  the  packing-room  down- 
stairs. Sounds  of  hammer  and  nails  arose  as  the  packages 
went  into  boxes.  They  could  hear  workmen  haggling  over 
the  spelling  of  certain  Manchurian  addresses. 

In  the  big  hall  the  nobly -born  seamstresses  talked,  smiled, 
raised  eyebrows,  nodded,  shook  their  heads  over  bad  news, 
and  gave  small,  half-finished  exclamations  over  good,  much 
as  a  roomful  of  Western  women  might  have  done.  The  for- 
tunes of  war  dominated  interest.  Bereavement  had  already 
fallen  upon  more  than  one  of  the  gentle  company.  Death 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       297 

was  spoken  of  quite  simply,  with  no  affectation  of  distress. 
Universal  contempt  was  expressed  for  a  certain  young  widow 
who  had  been  coarse  and  self-centred  enough  to  faint  at  her 
husband's  tomb.  "Hirotsune's  spirit  must  have  covered  his 
eyes  with  shame  at  that  sight,  and  thanked  the  gods  she 
had  borne  him  no  son,"  said  an  elderly  aunt  of  the  dead 
hero,  Hirotsune. 

But  not  all  the  conversation  was  of  war.  The  rise  in  the 
price  of  provisions  was  commented  upon  by  anxious  house- 
wives. In  all  cases  the  household  expenses  had  been  cut 
down,  and  the  money  deflected  to  the  national  treasury. 
This  seemed  as  natural  to  them  all  as  that  water  should 
flow.  "The  poor  food  makes,  of  course,  no  difference  to 
us  who  are  adult,  or  to  our  boy  children,"  murmured  one 
sweet-faced  matron.  "But  sometimes  the  babes,  and  the 
very  old  servants,  grumble  a  little  at  having  barley  mixed 
with  their  rice."  Fashions,  since  no  one  thought  of  buy- 
ing new  gowns,  was,  for  once  in  a  female  gathering,  utterly 
ignored.  Gossip  concerning  foreign  residents,  especially 
women,  remained,  as  usual,  an  engrossing  theme.  The  latest 
Yokohama  and  Tsukijii  scandals  were  whispered,  not  with- 
out zest.  These  high-nosed,  fierce-looking  creatures  of  their 
own  sex  were  a  source  of  constant  marvelling  to  Japanese 
women.  "Kitsui"  (mannish)  they  were  called,  as  the  ex- 
treme of  disapprobation.  Yuki  defended  them,  and  gave  a 
softer  coloring  to  some  of  the  alleged  misdeeds.  Gwendolen 
she  cited  as  an  example  of  a  Western  girl  who  must,  in  her 
past  incarnations,  have  been  entirely  Japanese.  The  guests 
listened  politely,  but  Yuki  read  skepticism  on  their  calm 
faces. 

During  the  long  forenoon  not  once  was  a  voice  raised  or  a 
loud  laugh  heard.  Yet  not  one  face  ever  lapsed  into  indif- 
ference. One  might  have  gained  from  the  resilient  poise  of 
slender  throats  an  impression  of  yielding  strength.  Their 
chatter  was  a  murmur,  with  tripping,  short  interludes  of 
sound,  and  cooing,  long-drawn  vowels  soft  as  their  own 
white  hands.  They  were  a  flock  of  gray  doves  in  a  sheltered 
niche.  Never,  one  would  have  said,  were  creatures  more 
tender,  more  feminine,  more  dependent.  So  would  a  for- 


298  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

eigner  have  thought,  to  see  them;  but  a  Japanese  knows 
the  truth.  Not  a  Avoman  there  but  might  be  the  child,  the 
parent,  the  wife  of  a  hero.  Many  had  looked  calmly  on 
death.  Not  one  among  them  would  falter  at  the  extremest 
test  of  heroic  sacrifice,  and  should  the  call  come,  this  little 
sewing  band  would  rise,  arm  itself  with  swords,  and  deal 
what  desperate  death  it  could  upon  intruding  enmity,  before 
at  last  plunging  sharp  surrender  into  its  own  brave  heart. 

At  noon  the  Japanese  meal  was  served.  After  it  came  a 
little  pause  of  rest,  enlivened  by  smoking  from  small  gold 
pipes,  and  the  drinking  of  added  cups  of  tea.  Just  before 
one  o'clock  the  sewing  was  resumed.  Then  the  little  silk-clad 
ladies  waited,  in  deeper  agitation  than  they  would  have 
felt  in  facing  Kuropatkin,  for  the  coming  of  their  foreign 
friends. 

Mrs.  Todd  was  punctual  almost  to  the  minute.  With  her 
came  Gwendolen  and  Mrs.  Stunt.  A  slight  coolness  now 
existed  between  the  two  elder  ladies.  Mrs.  Stunt's  explana- 
tion that  her  effusiveness  to  the  Haganes  was  merely  "  sar- 
casm" had  failed  to  convince  even  so  trustful  a  nature  as 
Mrs.  Todd.  Coolness,  however,  did  not  keep  Mrs.  Stunt  from 
a  neighborhood  where  she  might  derive  profit. 

She  had  walked  on  foot  to  the  Legation,  declaring  that  her 
jinrikisha-man  was  shockingly  drunk,  and  had  begged  a  seat 
in  the  American  carriage.  It  was,  of  course,  given,  and  by 
the  time  Yuki's  residence  was  reached  the  artful  one  had  re- 
gained sonie  of  her  lost  favor  with  Mrs.  Todd,  and  deepened 
the  loathing  of  the  silent  Gwendolen. 

The  three  came  up  the  stairs  together,  their  foreign  shoes 
pounding  in  unison,  causing  the  huge,  badly  constructed  house 
to  rattle  at  every  window. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Todd,  as  she  lifted  her  lorgnette 
to  survey  the  long  hall  and  the  gathered  company,  "a  regular 
sewing-bee,  is  n't  it  ?  And  I  see,  Yuki,  you  've  got  the  piano 
upstairs,  after  all.  I  did  n't  believe  you  'd  get  it  up  those 
steps." 

Yuki  had,  of  course,  met  them  at  the  door.  She  and 
Gwendolen  fell,  through  force  of  habit,  far  in  the  wake  of 
the  bustling  dame.  Mrs.  Stunt  kept  well  beside  the  leader. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       299 

The  two  girls  clasped  hands  shyly,  and  looked  at  each  other 
with  side  glances,  like  happy  children  in  the  first  embarrass- 
ment of  play.  Many  of  the  Japanese  ladies  lifted  glances  of 
interest  to  the  tall  blonde  girl.  This  must  be  she  of  whom 
the  Princess  Hagane  had  spoken,  the  girl  with  the  face  of 
the  Sun  Goddess  Amaterasu,  —  with  the  strayed  soul  of  a 
Nipponese.  She  wore  this  afternoon  a  simple  costume  of 
golden-brown  silk.  It  was  just  the  transition  tone  between 
her  golden  hair  and  the  darker  brows  and  lashes.  A  wide 
hat  of  bronze-colored  velvet  piled  high  with  paler  plumes 
balanced  itself  on  her  delicate  head.  Bronze-colored  gloves 
ran  up  the  slender  arms  to  the  elbow,  where  the  sleeves  fell 
away  in  a  deep  pointed  ruff.  A  belt  of  dull  yellow  shark's 
skin  and  bronze  boots  completed  the  costume.  The  seated 
women,  ignoring  the  advancing  bulk  of  Madame  Todd,  the 
restless  insistency  of  her  companion,  let  smiling  eyes  rest 
on  Gwendolen,  then  nodded  to  each  other,  and  exchanged 
glances,  as  if  in  corroboration  of  Yuki's  previous  words. 

"  I  am  keeping  seats  for  your  party,  dear  Mrs.  Todd,  over 
there  by  that  most  sunshine  window,"  said  Yuki.  "Please 
see  that  a  chair  is  held  for  Mrs.  Wyndham,  who  is  so  very 
kind  to  sing  for  us.  Ah,  I  hear  many  peoples  arriving.  I 
see  Mrs.  Wyndham  now.  I  will  advance  to  her."  Yuki 
hurried  off,  and  soon  returned  with  the  prima  donna,  whom 
she  delivered  into  Mrs.  Todd's  efficient  hands. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  cried  that  lady.  "Oh,  I  beg 
pardon.  Mrs.  Stunt,  Mrs.  Wyndham;  my  daughter,  Miss 
Todd,  Mrs.  Wyndham.  I  didn't  realize  that  you  had  not 
met  Miss  Todd." 

"  I  called  at  your  Legation  last  Tuesday,  —  the  proper  day, 
I  am  sure,  — but  failed  to  see  Miss  Todd,"  said  the  English- 
woman, stiffly. 

Mrs.  Todd  flushed  crimson.  Mrs.  Stunt  turned  away  to 
hide  her  satisfaction.  A  public  slight  to  Gwendolen  gen- 
erally meant,  for  Mrs.  Todd,  attempted  annihilation  of  the 
offender.  She  turned  angered  eyes  to  Mrs.  Wyndham,  and 
would  have  spoken,  but  Gwendolen  pressed  her  arm.  "No, 
mother  dear,  don't  defend  me;  I  deserve  it.  Let  me  speak. 
Mrs.  Wyndham,  I  am  mother's  despair  at  the  Legation.  I 


300  THE   BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

forget  reception-days  half  the  time.  I  —  I  — "  here  she 
lowered  her  voice  to  a  delicious,  confidential  whisper,  "the 
fact  is  I  —  I  shirk  them.  So  many  old  frumps,  you  know! 
It's  getting  to  be  a  regular  hen-roost.  But,  honest,  I  am 
sorry  I  was  out  last  Tuesday,  and  I  want  you  to  give  me 
another  chance."  Gwendolen  could  generally  be  irresistible 
when  she  chose.  Now  she  chose  not  only  to  win  Mrs. 
Wyndham,  to  whose  high-bred  English  face  she  had  taken 
an  instant  liking,  but  to  deal  another  blow  to  her  enemy 
Mrs.  Stunt. 

In  both  efforts  she  was  successful,  though  Mrs.  Wyndham 
did  not  capitulate  all  at  once.  The  sparkling  hazel  eyes 
and  the  gray  ones  met.  Suspicion  lived  a  little  longer  in 
the  latter.  "Please,"  murmured  Gwendolen.  Suspicion 
died.  "I  am  always  at  home  on  my  Wednesdays,"  said  the 
Englishwoman. 

"I'll  be  there,"  laughed  Gwendolen.  "Have  me  a  place 
set  at  your  breakfast-table!" 

Yuki  had  vanished  to  perform  her  duties  of  hostess.  Mrs. 
Todd  and  her  small  party  took  the  "sunshine"  seats,  and 
a  Japanese  lady  whom  they  had  not  met  brought  them  for- 
eign sewing  materials.  Work  had  not  begun  with  them 
when  a  low,  plaintive  voice  leaned  to  Mrs.  Todd's  large 
ear.  "Please,  please,  help  me  in  all  ways  you  can,  dear 
Mrs.  Todd.  This  is  much  worse  than  that  reception  I  held 
downstairs.  So  many  foreign  ladies  are  come,  —  and  they 
all  look  at  everybody  so  very  hard!  Ask  kind  Mrs. 
Wyndham  to  sing  just  as  soon  as  she  are  ready,  and  soon, 
please." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  rose  instantly,  and  looked  with  composure 
over  the  sea  of  lifted  heads.  Every  chair  was  now  taken, 
and  servants  brought  up  new  ones  from  the  rooms  down- 
stairs. She  was  used  to  audiences,  also  to  commendation. 
In  her  hands  she  held  a  roll  of  music.  Mrs.  Wyndham  was 
one  of  those  colonists  —  a  large  class  in  the  Far  East  — 
who  never  forgive  Japan  for  not  being  England.  She  em- 
phasized her  homesickness  by  withdrawal  from  all  native 
interests,  except,  as  now,  when  she  could  give  pleasure  and 
assistance  by  her  voice.  It  was  her  pride  that  she  ate 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       301 

no  Japanese  products.  Everything  on  her  table  was  "im- 
ported." Even  her  garden  held  only  English  flowers.  That 
great  sea  of  spiritual  and  physical  beauty  which  lies  in  Jap- 
anese character,  and  in  its  environment,  was  to  her  non- 
existent. Such  dwellers  in  the  East  are  like  children  who, 
in  springtime,  search  the  grass  for  fallen  apples,  and  never 
once  lift  their  disappointed  faces  to  the  pink  canopy  of 
bloom. 

As  may  be  inferred,  all  Japanese  music  was,  to  Mrs. 
Wyndham  and  her  intimate  associates,  mere  squeaking, 
caterwauling,  an  excruciating  discord.  She  spoke  constantly 
of  "  civilized  "  music.  She  was  fond  of  referring  to  the  Eng- 
ish  school  of  harmony.  She  was  exaggerated  in  her  use  of 
English  method. 

"Shall  I  be  compelled  to  play  my  own  accompaniment?" 
now  asked  Mrs.  Wyndham.  Her  pretty  face  showed  concern. 

"If  the  music  is  not  too  hard  I  will  try,"  said  Gwendolen, 
springing  from  her  chair,  while  scissors  and  thimble  fell  clat- 
tering to  the  floor.  She  gave  the  fallen  articles  a  contemptu- 
ous glance,  and,  without  a  motion  to  rescue  them,  followed 
Mrs.  Wyndham  to  the  piano. 

A  group  of  young  Japanese  girls,  put  in  a  corner  to  them- 
selves, exchanged  looks  of  delight,  and  began  to  titter  like 
wrens.  "How  much  do  the  ways  of  the  honorable  foreign 
scissors  and  thimble  resemble  those  of  Japanese  scissors  and 
thimble !  "  they  confided  one  to  another. 

"My  thimble  generally  rolls  off  the  veranda  and  buries 
itself  among  pebbles.  I  think  it  possesses  an  imp! "  laughed 
one. 

"  Mine  goes  always  into  the  red  coals  of  the  hibachi," 
giggled  another. 

"That  is  precisely  the  conduct  of  my  worthless  article," 
added  a  third.  "The  water-kettle  has  to  be  taken  aside, 
and  grandmother  scowls.  Then  we  all  dig  for  the  thimble 
with  the  copper  fire-sticks.  When  we  find  it,  it  is  quite 
black,  and  —  Ma-a-a !  —  so  hot,  that  it  must  be  dropped  at 
once  into  cold  water,  where  it  hisses  like  the  head  of  a  small 
serpent." 

"Now  what  shall  I  sing  for  such  a  crowd  as  this?"  mused 


302  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Mrs.  Wyndham,  as  she  shuffled  the  loose  leaves  of  her  music. 
Her  words  had  the  sound  of  inner  meditation. 

"  What  would  the  Japanese  like  best  ?  "  asked  Gwendolen, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"Oh,  my  dear!  I  wasn't  thinking  of  them!"  protested 
the  other.  "They  are  incapable  of  appreciating  any  real 
music.  I  was  thinking  of  our  foreign  friends." 

"  Yuki  Hagane  is  a  Japanese.  She  loves  the  best  music. 
Brahms  is  almost  a  passion  with  her.  She  says  that  he 
sounds  like  the  wind  in  pine-trees,  high  above  a  great 
battle." 

"Oh,  Brahms!"  said  the  other.  "I  never  sing  Brahms. 
He  is  too  harsh  and  unpoetic.  These  bellowing  contraltos 
affect  him.  As  for  me,  I  must  have  something  light,  poetic, 
full  of  melody." 

"Here  is  our  American  McDowell,"  murmured  Gwendolen, 
and  bent  her  face  that  its  expression  might  not  be  seen. 
"Being  patriotic  by  profession  I  plead  for  McDowell." 

"You  do  not  consider  him,  —  over  their  heads?"  asked 
the  Englishwoman,  dubiously. 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  give  them  Sullivan  next  time,  and 
bring  down  the  average  !  "  Mrs.  Wyndham  bent  a  sus- 
picious look,  but  Gwendolen's  lifted  gaze  was  that  of  a 
seraph  over  a  last  harp  note.  "I'll  try  McDowell.  Can 
you  play  the  accompaniment?" 

"I  can  at  least  attempt  it,"  said  Gwendolen,  meekly,  and 
forthwith  rippled  out  the  prelude  with  an  ease  that  further 
deepened  suspicion. 

The  song  began  with  a  single  note,  long  sustained,  the 
voice  striking  in  abruptly  among  hurrying  chords.  Mrs. 
Wyndham's  beautiful  voice  took  it  like  a  star.  Suddenly, 
with  another  upward  swerve,  the  note  wavered,  passed  into 
a  new  kindling  as  into  the  life  of  a  bird,  and  swept  along  on 
higher  currents  with  motionless,  outspread  wings. 

The  foreign  ladies  exchanged  glances  of  rapture.  The 
Japanese  workers,  on  the  other  hand,  stared  first  in  aston- 
ishment, then  writh  growing  apprehension.  Surely  this  was 
not  singing  !  Something  must  be  going  wrong  with  the 
honorable  insides  of  the  kind  lady!  They  stole  timid  looks 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       303 

toward  their  hostess,  and  by  her  calm,  interested  face  were 
reassured.  Still  the  piercing  note  went  higher.  The  singer's 
throat  swelled  slightly,  and  her  face  turned  red.  From  the 
group  of  Japanese  girls  one  hysterical  chuckle  escaped.  That 
set  off  the  whole  lot.  Staid  matrons  bowed  convulsed  faces 
to  folds  of  cotton  cloth;  silken  sleeves  came  into  requisition. 
A  few  of  the  foreign  ladies  looked  about  and  frowned.  Yuki 
half  rose  from  her  chair. 

Now,  fortunately,  the  highest  note  was  reached.  It  broke 
its  flight  with  a  great  twitter  of  wings.  The  bars  of  a 
staccato  love-song  began.  Again  the  Japanese  women  stared, 
but  now  in  admiration  as  well  as  wonder.  Never  were  sing- 
ing notes  so  light,  so  delicate,  so  silvery  !  As  the  song  ended 
(and  indeed  it  had  been  exquisitely  given),  the  foreign  ladies 
burst  into  simultaneous  applause.  Led  by  the  bolder  among 
them,  the  Japanese  followed  suit. 

"Oh,  we  can't  let  you  stop  at  that,  dear  Mrs.  Wyndham," 
came  Mrs.  Stunt's  high,  rasping  voice.  "  Won't  you  give  us 
that  lovely  thing  of  Goo-nowd's  you  sung  at  our  last  Charity 
concert  ?  "  Mrs.  Wyndham  consented.  After  Gounod  it  was 
an  English  ballad,  then  another  and  another,  until  at  length 
the  singer,  with  pretty  petulance,  turned  from  the  piano  say- 
ing that  she  had  already  monopolized  too  much  time.  A  great 
buzzing  of  thanks  and  congratulations  surged  about  her.  No 
expression  of  admiration  was  too  exaggerated.  In  fact  there 
was  none  that  pretty  Mrs.  Wyndham  had  not  heard  many 
times  before.  She  accepted  these  tributes  now,  as  usual,  with 
deprecating  smiles,  and  little  protesting  shakes  of  the  head, 
finally  declaring  that  they  would  make  her  conceited  if  they 
did  n't  stop. 

No  one  noticed  the  American  girl,  still  at  the  piano.  She 
gave  a  swift  look  around,  and  seeing  that  the  biwa  player 
had  not  come,  began  whispering  to  the  keys  the  first  notes 
of  one  of  Chopin's  most  delicate  fantasies.  Like  the  down 
on  a  moth's  wing,  it  came.  Like  crystal  raindrops,  then, 
mixed  with  the  perfume  of  bruised  petals,  and  sometimes 
the  distant  yearning  of  a  bird.  This  was  music  that  even 
the  untutored  Japanese  girls  could  feel.  It  held  the  sound 
of  their  own  koto  strings,  —  it  breathed  whispers  of  their 


304  THE   BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

own  trees,  and  winds,  and  sighing  sea-stretches.  Gradually 
all  voices  in  the  room  ceased.  Faster  the  notes  came,  though 
still  with  a  suggestion  of  whispering.  Gwendolen's  white 
hands  became  a  misty  blur.  The  theme  drew  closer,  with 
now  a  wind-driven  swish  of  rain  and  scurrying  petals;  now 
the  nearer  cry  of  a  bird,  and  a  low  under-rhythm  of  human 
sorrow.  The  sounds  whirled  -and  lifted  into  melodious  agi- 
tation. The  caged  bird  seemed  to  give  low  plaints  of  fear; 
the  wind  and  the  rain  drove  close,  dashed  into  the  face  of 
silence,  and  drew  back.  Then  all  sounds  died  away  in  waves 
of  exhausted  sobbing.  Gwendolen  sprang  up,  leaving  the 
piano  vibrant.  She  hurried  to  the  nearest  window,  turning 
her  face  from  all  in  the  room. . 

Mrs.  Wyndham  was  the  first  to  speak.  Her  light  laugh 
had  an  artificial  sound.  "And  to  think,  my  dear,  that  I 
insisted  upon  knowing  whether  you  could  manage  my 
accompaniments  !  " 

Gwendolen  did  not  heed.  She  wa.s  tingling  with  the  ex- 
citement and  unrest  that  Chopin's  music  so  often  brought 
her.  Yuki  came  softly,  slipping  a  little  scarred  hand  into 
that  of  her  friend. 

"I  hate  Chopin!"  cried  the  American  girl,  in  a  low, 
angry  voice.  "I  wonder  why  I  keep  on  playing  him  ! 
Every  time  I  say  I  won't,  and  then  I  go  and  do  it  !  He  is 
morbid,  he  is  childish,  he  is  French  !  One  sees  his  weak 
chin  quiver,  and  the  tears  roll  down  his  cheek  !  He  wants 
you  to  see  them.  I  hate  him,  I  say  !  But,  oh,  he  is  a 
compelling  genius  ! " 

"  Yes,  he  do  like  every  one  to  see  him  when  he  cries.  But 
when  I  hear  him  I  think,  '  Oh,  what  must  it  be  to  a  person's 
soul  to  be  able  to  cry  such  tears  of  music  ! ' ' 

A  sound  at  the  main  entrance-door  caused  the  little  hostess 
to  turn.  "Ah,  there  is  the  Satsuma  biwa  player!  I  must 
now  go  to  him.  He,  too,  makes  tears,  Gwendolen,  but  of  a 
different  sort.  Perhaps  you  will  not  wish  to  cry  for  him. 
You  may  even  think  him  to  be  funny,  as  many  of  the  Jap- 
anese ladies  thought  Mrs.  Wyndham's  beautiful  singing  to 
be  funny.  You  must  not  try  to  stay,  — you  and  Mrs.  Todd, 
—  if  it  will  tire  you." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       305 

As  she  hurried  away  Mrs.  Wyndham  drew  slowly  near. 
"You  naughty  one  !  I  shall  owe  you  a  grudge  for  this. 
You  are  not  to  be  forgiven  until  you  promise  to  come 
often  —  often  —  and  let  us  play  sometimes  together.  You 
are  a  genius  !  " 

"Not  quite  that,  I  think,"  said  Gwendolen,  smiling. 
"Though,  indeed,  I  have  never  known  a  friend  to  take 
music's  place,  except  Yuki;  and  now  that  she  is  a  prin- 
cess, I  suppose  I  can't  feel  her  to  be  so  much  my  own.  I 
shall  love  to  come  to  you  and  play.  Your  voice  is  like  sun- 
shine on  an  English  fountain." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  other,  "  what  a  charming  speech  !  No 
man  could  say  anything  half  so  pretty  !  Now,  as  reward,  I 
am  going  to  give  you  a  piece  of  valuable  advice."  She  leaned 
confidentially  near.  "Make  your  escape  while  you  can." 
She  nodded  significantly  toward  the  biwa  player,  who,  with 
Yuki  beside  him,  stood  shrinkingly  in  the  doorway.  "  I  've 
heard  him  once,  — or  one  like  him.  It  is  what  you  Ameri- 
cans might  call  '  the  limit '  !  " 

"You  mean  for  me  to  go?  But  I  have  never  heard  any 
Japanese  music  at  all  ! "  protested  Gwendolen. 

"  Oh,  in  that  case  —  "  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  with  her  deli- 
cate shrug.  "  If  you  care  for  the  experience  !  "  She  hurried 
off  with  many  protestations  of  regret.  Several  other  ladies 
followed  her  example. 

The  biwa  player  now  stood  beside  the  piano.  Two  Jap- 
anese tatami  (padded  straw  mats  six  feet  in  length)  were 
brought  in  and  placed  upon  the  floor.  Before  inviting  him 
to  be  seated  Yuki  made  a  hesitating  little  speech  to  the  com- 
pany, first  in  English,  then  in  Japanese,  saying  to  the  for- 
eigners that  while  the  music  to  come  would  doubtless  be 
strange,  and  possibly  displeasing  to  them,  to  her  and  her 
compatriots  it  was  a  trumpet-call  to  heroism.  "  It  stirs  our 
blood  to  every  drop  ! "  she  cried,  forgetting,  for  the  instant, 
her  shyness.  "It  echoes  to  the  brave  deeds  of  a  thousand 
years  ago,  —  it  foretells  deeds  more  greater  that  may  come  ! 
It  is  the  crying  of  strong  souls,  it  is  breath  of  our  fathers' 
Gods  ! " 

Gwendolen,  in  that  vague  sort  of  way  in  which  impressions 

20 


306  THE   BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

of  alien  customs  are  formed,  had  believed  all  male  musicians 
in  Japan  to  be  blind.  Some  one  had  told  her  so,  or  she  had 
read  it.  She  was  surprised,  therefore,  and  interested,  to  see 
in  this  famous  singer  of  battle-hymns  a  young  man,  indeed 
almost  a  boy,  with  thin,  shaven  face,  tumultuous  black  hair 
not  too  closely  or  evenly  cut,  tossed  in  thick  locks  all  over 
his  well-poised  head ;  and  eyes,  large,  straight,  expressive,  and 
brilliant  enough  to  be  the  ornament  of  a  young  French  or 
Italian  seigneur.  He  showed  a  slight  embarrassment,  at 
first,  in  the  presence  of  so  many  women.  He  was  used  to 
the  audience  of  statesmen,  to  the  flashing  response  of 
Majesty.  Here  were  not  only  Japanese  girls,  mere  chil- 
dren, but  a  great  company  of  high-nosed,  pink  and  purple 
foreigners.  Saturated  as  he  was,  made  up  of  lore  and 
legend,  with  songs  of  the  Lady  Sakanouye,  or  of  Ono  no 
Komachi  never  far  from  his  lips,  even  Gwendolen's  bright 
beauty  seemed  a  trifle  abnormal,  bleached,  repellent. 

Now  his  hostess,  the  young  Princess  Hagane,  looked  into 
his  eyes,  and  spoke  to  him  in  their  own  tongue.  "Be  not 
concerned,  honorable  sir,  at  the  presence  of  foreign  women  ! 
They  cannot  understand  your  words,  of  course;  but  I  am 
sure  they  will  listen  courteously.  As  for  us,  —  we  Japanese 
women,  —  we  are  the  wives,  the  daughters,  the  mothers  of 
heroes.  Our  frail  lives  toss  as  thin  flames  on  the  altar  of 
prayer.  We  cannot  fight,  we  can  only  pray  and  work.  Sing 
strength  to  us  as  we  minister  to  distant  soldiers  dying,  per- 
haps on  barren  fields,  or  heaped,  dead,  in  the  ploughed  siege- 
trenches  of  this  fearful  war  ! " 

His  deep  eyes  seemed  to  drink  of  her  inspiration,  so  long 
was  the  gaze  with  which  he  held  her.  "  I  am  honored  to  sing 
at  your  bidding,"  he  answered.  He  had  forgotten  to  bow  at 
the  words.  He  forgot  that  she  was  a  princess.  He  recog- 
nized her  as  a  spirit.  Forever  after  this  slight  girl,  seen 
but  once,  became  one  of  the  poet's  galaxy  of  pale,  pure  stars. 
For  years  he  could  not  sing  of  the  death-struggle  of  the  Heike 
clan  without  a  vision  of  her  prophetic  eyes. 

He  took  his  seat  very  slowly  on  the  soft  straw  mat.  Yuki 
withdrew,  and  became  lost  among  her  guests.  The  biwa,  a 
large  lute  in  the  shape  of  half  a  pear,  had  been  held,  all  this 


THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS  307 

time,  closely  against  the  young  man's  breast.  Now,  in  taking 
his  seat,  the  instrument  was  extended  to  the  full  length  of 
his  right  arm.  It  gave  out,  under  his  close  grasp,  a  sleepy 
hum.  For  an  instant  only  it  was  placed  apart  from  him,  on 
the  mat,  that  he  might  spread  and  smooth  the  knees  of  his 
silken  robe,  draw  his  stiff  sleeves  into  exact  angles,  and 
adjust  the  low  kimono  collar.  Then  he  turned  impatiently 
again  to  the  lute.  It  murmured  to  him  ;  he  drew  it  close, 
smiling  as  a  mother  upon  her  babe. 

"  Ain't  he  handsome  for  a  Jap  ? "  whispered  Mrs.  Stunt 
to  Gwendolen.  The  girl  winced.  She  was  studying  him  in 
her  own  way.  His  manner,  just  before  beginning,  was  aloof 
and  reserved,  as  if  he  were  restating  to  himself  consecra- 
tion to  service.  The  Japanese  women,  even  the  oldest,  gazed 
upon  him  with  deep  reverence. 

"Beethoven  may  have  smiled  like  that,  or  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi,"  thought  Gwendolen.  "It  is  a  look,  not  of  race, 
but  of  immortality." 

The  player's  head  lifted  slightly.  He  was  losing  con- 
sciousness of  material  presences.  His  part  was  with  the 
unseen  world;  he  must  draw  down  currents  of  a  mighty 
past,  and  send  them  as  new  streams  of  influence,  on  through 
a  menaced  future.  For  he  was  to  improvise,  not  to  repeat. 
His  theme  alone  was  set,  —  a  most  heroic  incident  of  civil 
wars,  resulting  in  extermination  of  a  dominating  clan.  The 
annihilation  of  the  Heike  might  give  him  text,  but  the  flow 
of  rhythmic  words  should  vibrate,  thrill,  moan,  quicken, 
purl,  or  shatter,  as  the  mood  of  the  moment  might  demand. 
Doubtless  in  this  pause  he  was  invoking,  in  full  faith,  the 
souls  of  those  dead  heroes;  offering  them  possession  of  his 
human  frame,  and  entreating  higher  gods  to  make  him 
worthy  of  the  test. 

His  low  voice  and  the  first  three  slow  notes  rose  together. 
The  minor  quality  suggested  lamentation.  A  short  passage, 
rapidly  chanted  without  accompaniment,  made  the  hearts  of 
the  listeners  beat  a  little  faster.  Then  voice  and  instrument 
clashed  together  ;  both  whirled  nearer,  until,  all  at  once, 
—  silence  !  The  player  looked  about  the  room  in  bewilder- 
ment. He  stared  down  upon  the  biwa.  He  closed  his  eyes 


308  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

and  swayed  slightly  backward,  then  forward,  then  back  again. 
Suddenly  he  reopened  his  eyes.  They  were  larger,  more 
brilliant;  they  flashed  a  new  fire,  the  glare  of  battle  reflected 
in  their  depths.  Words  now  came  rapidly.  His  sentences 
fell  of  themselves  into  long,  unstable  rhythms.  Cadences 
were  lacking.  All  phrasing,  except  in  rarest  intervals, 
broke  into  the  air  with  a  sob,  a  sigh,  a  shuddering  gasp. 
Often  now  the  biwa  strings  were  slashed  across  by  the  ivory 
plectrum,  and  the  human  wail  rang  through  vibrating  re- 
sponse. Then  voice  and  strings  plunged  into  a  seeming  dis- 
cord, a  frantic  wrack  of  sound  exorcised  an  instant  later  by 
pure  calm  notes  struck  separately,  like  the  drip  of  slow  water. 

In  the  sense  of  Western  harmony  there  was  none,  but  some- 
thing in  the  weird  vibrations  of  long  notes,  the  intricacies 
of  overtone,  and,  above  all,  the  unbelievable  subtleties  of 
rhythm,  gave  to  one  eager  American  listener,  at  least,  her 
first  insight  into  a  new  world  of  sound.  "  They  are  nearer 
in  this,  as  in  all  their  other  arts,  to  nature,"  she  thought  to 
herself.  "  They  summon  the  very  essences  of  being,  and  find 
skeins  for  entangling  them.  Without  conscious  representa- 
tion, they  suggest  to  the  human  ear  the  lisp  of  sea  winds, 
the  flutter  of  fire,  the  rushing  monologue  of  mountain  streams. 
They  hear  sounds  we  Westerners  never  hear.  I  believe  the 
very  mists  are  audible." 

As  the  emotion  increased  and  the  subject  became  more 
martial,  the  time  of  the  music  grew  rapid,  broken,  synco- 
pated, involved.  Soft,  melodious  passages  shattered  into 
jarring  notes.  Like  European  troubadours  of  France,  or 
the  meistersingers  of  mediaeval  Germany,  he  yielded  him- 
self to  the  unconscious  swing  of  impulse,  and  sang  what  was 
given  him.  Lines  shortened.  Syllables  became  more  stac- 
cato. It  was  dramatic,  undidactic  —  the  deeds  rather  than 
the  thoughts  of  men.  His  diction  became  more  simple  and 
direct,  with  sharp,  incisive  verbs  at  the  end  that  rang  like 
smitten  steel.  His  whole  body,  at  times,  was  shaken.  After 
some  terrific  passage,  while  the  sobbing  lute-strings  sustained 
the  passion,  his  body  would  bend  over  and  down,  as  if,  in 
its  abandonment  to  joy,  grief,  or  battle  ardor,  it  would  hug 
the  instrument  that  had  become  its  soul. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       309 

Now  he  sang  of  the  hero  youth,  Atsumori,  of  his  in- 
sistence upon  honorable  death  at  the  hand  of  his  conqueror, 
Kumagaye. 

"  The  Hour  of  the  Hare  comes  at  last,  and  the  red  sun  advances, 
Raised  like  a  cry  and  a  shield  in  the  mists  of  the  morning, 

"  Warriors  and  chiefs  and  the  dauntless  brave  youth  Atsumori 
Drive  to  the  sea  all  the  hordes  of  the  sweating  red  demons." 

The  dove-gray  garments  of  the  Japanese  women,  folded 
so  modestly  across  seemingly  quiet  breasts,  began  to  stir 
and  palpitate.  More  than  one  tear  fell  upon  the  bandages. 
Yuki's  face,  set  now  unfalteringly  upon  the  singer,  grew 
ever  more  white ;  her  long  eyes  burned,  and  trembled  apart. 
Unconsciously  she  went  close  to  him,  and,  kneeling  upon 
the  hard  floor,  drank  of  his  voice.  The  group  of  Japanese 
maidens  hid  faces  in  their  bright  sleeves.  The  air  stirred 
and  tingled  with  invisible  influences.  Gwendolen  began  to 
shiver  like  an  animal  which  knows  not  its  own  source  of 
fear.  The  charged  atmosphere,  the  face,  the  voice  of  the 
singer,  Yuki's  great  glowing  eyes,  swept  in  her  soul  strained 
chords  of  unknown  feeling.  She  felt  in  herself  the  vibra- 
tions of  that  trembling  lute.  In  its  cell  a  soul,  just  wakened, 
fumbled  at  a  new  discovered  latch.  "  Surely  it  must  be  re- 
incarnation," whispered  the  girl.  "Surely  I  have  felt  and 
seen  all  this  before!  Yuki  and  I  together  have  listened; 
that  look  was  on  her  face.  Yuki  ! "  The  cry  was  scarcely 
a  whisper.  Yuki,  many  feet  away,  could  not  possibly  have 
heard,  yet  instantly  she  turned,  —  the  eyes,  night-black  and 
hazel,  caught  and  clung  together,  with  half  ghostly  memories 
that  were  the  same. 

"  Hissed  there  the  sea  with  the  scorching  of  steel  and  of  passion, 
Rolled  up  the  clouds  from  the  sky  and  the  shore  in  a  tumult, 
There  on  the  sand  lies  the  body  of  young  Atsumori." 

One  great  crashing  across  the  strings,  "  like  the  tearing  of 
brocade,"  and  the  singer's  head  fell  forward, — his  frame 
trembled  and  shrank,  he  quivered  into  stillness.  Yuki  half 
crawled  to  him,  holding  out  a  protecting  arm,  and  facing  her 
guests  like  a  young  tigress.  "Do  not  any  one  speak.  Do 


310  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

not  crowd  about  him,"  she  cried  in  English.  "His  soul  will 
be  weary  from  the  long  journey." 

The  Japanese  women  understood,  and  returned  quietly 
to  their  sewing.  The  foreigners  tittered,  shrugged,  and  ex- 
changed glances,  then  they,  too,  began  to  work.  A  servant 
brought  tea  to  the  singer,  and  a  glass  of  cold  water.  At 
length  he  stretched  out  a  trembling  hand  to  the  latter,  and 
having  finished  the  draught,  rose  quietly  and  went  from 
the  room,  with  Yuki  close  behind.  A  few  moments  later 
Gwendolen  heard  her  returning,  unaccompanied,  along  the 
hall.  She  went  out  to  meet  her,  thankful  indeed  for  the 
privilege  of  a  few  words  alone. 

"  Yuki-ko,"  she  faltered,  "I  just  wanted  to  say  that  at  last 
I  understand,  —  I  think  I  understand  entirely." 

Yuki,  still  half  in  the  world  of  shadows,  gave  her  a 
strange  look.  "You  understand,  Gwendolen?  Is  it  my 
marriage  you  speak  of  ?  " 

"  Oh,  so  much  more  than  that  ! "  cried  the  other,  with  a 
little  sob.  "  Had  you  been  what  the  conventional  foreigner 
calls  '  faithful,'  you  would  have  been  the  most  faithless  girl 
in  all  the  world ! " 

"You  are  a  wonderful  friend,"  said  Yuki.  Her  voice  had 
the  strange  quality  of  her  look.  Both  had  caught  the  rhythm 
of  low  martial  chanting.  "But  even  you,  my  Gwendolen, 
did  not  hear  or  understand  it  all.  There  is  tragedy  before 
me.  You  did  not  hear  that  in  the  music  ?  " 

"I  thought  I  heard  it,  darling,  but  I  shut  my  ears  !  I 
shall  not  believe.  We  can  compel  even  tragedy,  Yuki. 
Nothing  can  harm  you  with  Hagane's  love!" 

"  It  is  of  that  the  tragedy  come.  But  do  not  trouble.  If 
I  can  serve  Nippon,  I  asks  no  more  of  this  life." 

"Yuki,  what  can  you  mean?"  cried  the  other,  holding 
her  back. 

"Hush,  dearest;  do  not  trouble,"  smiled  Yuki.  "See,  the 
guests  turn  their  heads  to  listen.  I  must  go  to  them.  I 
have  no  fear  at  all." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

THROUGHOUT  the  months  of  March  and  early  April  this 
strange  hiatus  in  war  bulletins  hung,  like  a  gray  sky,  above 
national  enthusiasm.  The  more  dignified  of  the  newspapers 
still  adjured  the  populace  to  patience,  still  exhorted  them  to 
have  faith  in  their  wise  and  careful  leaders.  "  The  Hawk's 
Eye,"  on  the  other  hand,  bereft  of  inflammatory  battle  themes, 
served  up,  with  new  condiment  of  ingenious  suggestion,  the 
personal  gossip  of  the  hour.  Few  of  the  weekly  issues  (those 
printed  entirely  in  English)  omitted  a  guarded  slur  upon  the 
conjugal  felicity  of  the  Hagane  household.  Gwendolen  came 
in  for  her  share  of  veiled  allusion.  Yuki-ko,  each  week  stung 
by  the  contemptible  malice  of  the  attack,  promised  herself 
that  never  again  should  the  paper  be  opened  in  her  home. 
Gwendolen,  at  the  American  Legation,  weekly  did  the  same. 
The  results  of  both  resolutions  were  equally  humiliating. 

This  was  not  a  happy  time  for  Gwendolen,  creature  of 
sunshine  and  spring  breezes  as  she  seemed.  The  continued 
strained  relations  between  herself  and  Dodge  interfered  quite 
seriously  at  times  with  the  young  man's  official  duties.  Mr. 
Todd  leaned  more  heavily  than  he  knew  upon  his  attache's 
four  past  years  of  experience  in  Tokio  life,  and  resented  an 
attitude  of  one  of  his  own  family,  which  kept  Dodge  so  rigidly 
within  the  paling  of  mere  officialdom.  Mrs.  Todd,  who  had 
never  professed  great  friendship  for  the  secretary,  now  most 
loudly  denounced  his  "  outrageous  flirtation  "  with  the  Spanish 
girl,  and  even  declared  it  an  affront  upon  her  Legation.  Gwen- 
dolen, urged  one  moment  to  stop  the  affair,  "  as  she  certainly 
could  by  the  lifting  of  a  finger,"  was,  the  instant  after,  taunted 
by  her  inability  to  do  so. 

The  public  friendship  between  Dodge  and  the  charming 
Senorita  deepened  obviously  with  each  day.  Hints  of  an 
early  marriage  flecked  "The  Hawk's  Eye."  Mrs.  Todd  began 


312  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

to  feel  herself  personally  injured  by  her  wilful  daughter. 
Finally,  goaded  into  action  and  spurred  by  her  own  restless 
heart,  the  girl  made  a  counter-move  of  a  sudden  and  desperate 
intimacy  with  Carmen  herself.  Such  things  are  not  unknown 
in  the  history  of  adolescence.  Carmen  yielded  to  the  Amer- 
ican's bright  fascination  with  the  caressing  languor  character- 
istic of  her.  The  two  girls  lunched  together,  dined,  drove,  and 
had  tea  together,  and  spoke  of  each  other  in  exaggerated  terms 
of  endearment.  Dodge,  whatever  his  private  surmises,  retained 
an  unaltered  front.  Naturally  he  and  Gwendolen  were  more 
often  together.  She  showed  to  him  an  air  of  cherished  hos- 
tility, varied  by  small  lightning-flashes  of  appeal.  Two  femi- 
nine currents  blew  full  upon  him.  Dodge  kept  his  hat  on. 
The  beautiful  Castilian  bore  toward  him  the  attitude  of  an 
indulgent  conqueror.  Gwendolen  aided  this,  and  whenever 
possible  threw  Dodge  into  the  position  of  Carmen's  accepted 
lover.  Also,  for  some  reason  known  only  to  herself,  she  en- 
couraged the  Spanish  girl  in  her  belief  in  Dodge's  overwhelming 
adoration. 

Gwendolen  soon  discovered  that  her  new  friend  had  an  un- 
controllable yearning  for  "  dulces,"  and  eagerly  embraced  this 
opportunity  for  demonstrating  her  new  affection.  Gwendolen 
scoured  the  alleys  of  old  Yedo  for  novel  sweetmeats ;  she 
purveyed  from  the  French  shops  of  Yokohama  imported  dain- 
ties ;  she  sent  a  telegraphic  order  to  a  certain  New  York  con- 
fectioner. Carmen  appreciated  and  devoured  all  results.  The 
Japanese  confections,  which  many  other  European  ladies  might 
(without,  of  course,  having  tasted)  pretend  to  despise,  she 
declared  delicious.  The  "  ama-natto,"  or  small  purple  bean, 
boiled  and  sugar-coated  with  lilac  frosting,  she  called  "  fairy 
marron."  Mikan,  or  small  oranges  preserved  whole,  with  a 
flake  of  cinnamon  and  ginger,  gained  an  established  place  on 
the  Spanish  Legation  table.  "  Hakka  ame,"  that  delicious  tri- 
angle of  peppermint  cream,  improved  from  an  American  mis- 
sionary's original  recipe,  vied  in  public  favor,  as  a  hors-d'oeuvre 
with  French  bonbons,  salted  almonds,  and  olives. 

Once  Carmen's  French  maid,  suspecting,  perhaps,  more  than 
a  purely  altruistic  intention  in  Gwendolen's  persistent  offer- 
ings, warned  her  young  mistress  against  immoderate  indul- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       313 

gence  in  sweet  foods,  and  protested,  with  many  gesticulations 
and  a  hint  of  tears,  that  the  very  last  importation  of  Paris 
gowns  already  needed  the  letting  out  of  seams,  and  would 
soon  be  unwearable.  "Nonsense,  Lizette,"  smiled  the  pam- 
pered one,  "not  eat  dulces  ?  I  have  always  eaten  dulces. 
How,  in  the  Virgin's  name,  would  one  get  through  a  novel 
without  a  plate  of  dulces  beside  it?" 

The  maid  sent  a  hostile  glance  to  Gwendolen,  which  the 
blonde  beauty  had  the  conscience  not  to  resent.  Eapidly  in- 
creasing embonpoint  was  Carmen's  one  menace  to  beauty.  She 
had  already  begun  to  pray  to  her  patron  saint  for  diminution. 
On  the  prie-dieu  invariably  lay  a  half-nibbled  chocolate.  Were 
not  Gwendolen's  friendship  so  open,  so  obvious,  one  might 
have  suspected  that  she  connived  with  fate  to  circumvent  her 
Carmen's  petition ;  that  actually  she  assisted  in  the  mournful 
process  of  burying  perfect  features  and  luscious,  languorous 
dark  eyes  in  warm  cushions  of  pink  fat.  But  no,  we  must  not 
think  such  things  of  Gwendolen. 

Because  of  the  new  intimacy  and  an  increasing  activity  in 
Tokio  society  Gwendolen  now  saw  much  less  of  her  school- 
mate, Yuki.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well.  The  Princess  Hagane  had 
her  own  lessons  to  learn,  and  they  were  Japanese  lessons. 
Following  close  upon  her  first  sewing-meeting  came  Yuki's 
presentation  to  Their  Majesties.  The  court  ladies  welcomed 
her  into  their  midst.  As  in  humbler  Japanese  circles  she 
was  immediately  asked  innumerable  questions.  In  return 
she  began  learning,  from  her  high-born  interrogants,  the  new 
language  of  extreme  court  ceremony. 

Another  reception  and  another  sewing-meeting  fell  due.  To 
the  latter  of  these  functions  a  mere  handful  of  foreign  ladies 
came.  Gwendolen  and  Mrs.  Todd  were  detained,  actually,  by 
some  globe-trotting  Washington  associates,  who  landed  that 
very  day  at  Yokohama.  In  the  two  subsequent  gatherings 
foreign  attendance  ceased  altogether. 

Each  reception  was,  however,  a  "  crush."  Gossip  is  a  mag- 
net; the  presence  of  eligible  young  men  not  exactly  detrac- 
tion. Mrs.  Stunt  and  others  of  her  kind  went  openly  to  see 
whether  Pierre  Le  Beau  would  attend,  and  how  he  would  con- 
duct himself  before  host  and  hostess.  It  was  the  secret  craving 


314  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

of  such  social  vultures  that  a  scene,  the  more  disgraceful  the 
better,  be  enacted  for  their  entertainment,  and  the  disappoint- 
ment was  correspondingly  keen  when  neither  Pierre  nor  Count 
Konsard  attended.  The  count,  indeed,  sent  cards  and  a  gift  of 
flowers.  No  mention  at  all  was  made  of  the  younger  man. 

Three  of  the  Hagane  official  functions  had  taken  place. 
March  hurled  itself  gruffly  into  the  outstretched  arms  of 
spring.  Gwendolen  knew  why  Pierre  stayed  away  and  why 
Konsard  remained  so  impassive.  She  had  good  reasons  for 
not  telling  Yuki.  At  her  friend's  silence  the  latter  wondered. 
Instinct  told  her  that  there  was  a  deeper  explanation  than 
mere  forgetfulness.  More  than  once  she  had  nerved  herself 
to  inquire;  but  always,  just  on  the  point  of  asking,  something 
had  happened  to  interfere. 

A  new  cry,  which  affected  Yuki  far  more  openly,  began  to 
ring  through  the  current  press.  "  If  complications  have  arisen 
in  Manchuria  let  Prince  Hagane  go  and  unravel  them  !  "  This 
demand  grew  in  insistence  with  each  day.  Presently  the  whole 
nation  had  arisen,  and  was  clamoring,  "  Send  our  War  Lord, 
Hagane,  to  the  front !  "  Yuki  waited  patiently  for  her  hus- 
band to  inform  her  of  the  reception  of  this  demand  in  high 
quarters.  Like  a  good  Japanese  wife  she  dared  not  force  the 
issue.  On  every  side  her  part,  it  seemed,  was  to  wait,  to  com- 
mand herself,  to  endure  suspense.  To  an  impatient  nature 
such  as  Gwendolen  this  would  have  been  torture.  To  Yuki, 
trained  through  centuries  of  brave  ancestors  to  play  her 
woman's  part  of  uncomplaining  quiescence,  the  strain  was  not 
so  great.  Her  ignorance  of  Pierre  seemed,  indeed,  the  heaviest 
burden.  She  scanned  now  the  English  columns  of  every 
paper,  hoping  against  hope  that  her  eyes  would  seize  the 
printed  assurance  of  his  return  to  France.  This  was  the  young 
wife's  prayer,  uttered  on  her  knees  each  night,  muttered 
through  pale  lips  a  hundred  times  each  day,  that  Pierre  would 
go  quietly  home,  and  in  his  own  dear  land  forget  the  woman 
who  had  broken  faith  with  him.  His  threat  against  Hagane's 
life  did  not  sound  to  her  absurd.  It  re-echoed  to  her,  always 
with  a  pang  of  fear.  Love  and  hate  alike  give  preternatural 
insight.  By  injury  to  Prince  Hagane  alone  could  Pierre  gain 
full  revenge.  By  this  means  he  could  strip  the  flesh  from  the 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  315 

bones  of  her  loyal  sacrifice,  laying  bare  the  grinning  skeleton 
of  a  national  disaster,  wreaked  through  her. 

Of  course  she  could  not  speak  these  fears  to  Hagane.  There 
was  no  one,  not  even  Gwendolen,  to  whom  she  could  whisper 
them.  Hagane  was  now  seldom  at  his  home.  She  gathered, 
once  or  twice,  from  gossip  of  the  servants,  that  he  had  spent 
the  previous  night  and  day  at  the  Tabata  villa,  with  a  small 
company  of  statesmen  as  his  guests.  In  the  infrequent  visits, 
she,  studying  his  face  with  unconscious  intensity,  saw  the 
same  power,  the  same  sadness,  the  invincible  strength  un- 
shadowed and  unexcited  by  this  renewal  of  popular  hero- 
worship.  The  thought  that  he  might  leave  her  alone,  to  fulfil 
the  duties  of  his  position,  brought  to  the  young  wife  a  pang  of 
terror,  of  misgiving.  She  believed  it  to  be  merely  a  shrinking 
from  heavy  responsibility.  To  outward  appearance  she  and 
Hagane  stood  on  opposite  shores  of  an  increasing  chasm;  but 
in  her  heart,  when  she  dared  listen  to  its  timid  pleadings,  she 
knew  it  to  be  a  narrowing,  not  a  widening,  void  their  joint 
lives  spanned.  She  could  not  doubt  that  he  felt  some  grave 
pleasure  in  seeing  her  on  his  expected  visits  to  the  great  shell 
of  his  official  home.  The  weekly  receptions,  where  she  bore 
herself  with  ever-increasing  dignity  and  poise,  did  indeed  give 
to  the  husband  a  deep  impersonal  satisfaction.  It  was  more 
than  satisfaction  that  he  felt,  as  he  saw  the  great  filled  packing- 
cases  sent  away  each  week  to  suffering  soldiers  in  Manchuria. 

Once,  coming  in  upon  her  unannounced,  as  was  his  custom, 
he  had  suddenly  taken  the  white  thing  in  his  arms,  thrown 
her  head  back  to  his  shoulder,  and  gazed  into  her  eyes  as 
though  to  drag  from  some  hidden  depth  an  awakening  thought, 

—  a  cradled  possibility.     Yuki's  lids  drooped  under  the  blind- 
ing force  of  his  look.     She  felt  as  though  a  great  silent  wind 
blew,  pinning  her  against  a  rock.     Surely  in  his  twitching  face 
was  more  than  a  calm  self-congratulation  !     It  was  the  man, 
the  master,  summoning  by  right  what  was  rightly  his.     Love 

—  strong,  terrible,  yet  tender,  showed  for  an  instant  in  his 
dark  eyes.     He  went   from  her  as  quickly  as  he  had  come. 
No  word  had  broken  the  silence.     During  the  rest  of  that 
day  Yuki  rocked  in  her  heart  a  new-born  hope,  a  possibility 
so  strange,  so  ineffable  that  she  dared  not  open  her  eyes  to  its 


316  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

tiny  face.  With  bowed  head  and  fast-closed  lids  she  hushed 
it.  That  day  set  her  feet  on  the  temple-stair  of  shining 
prophecy.  But  how  dare  she,  already  to  one  pledge  so  faith- 
less, climb  upward,  even  on  bleeding  knees,  to  that  splendid 
portico  above  ? 

April  spread  her  witchery  of  green  and  flowers  over  a 
thousand  barren  hills.  Wild  azaleas,  wigelia,  and  boke  (pyrus 
Japonica)  barred  the  slopes  with  pink  and  crimson  radiance. 
Valleys,  so  lately  brown,  spread  now  a  wide  bloom  of  violets, 
a  curdled  residue  of  purple  morning  mists.  Earth-dwarfs, 
congeners  of  Loki,  who  people  the  under-world,  drove  upward 
from  their  subterranean  caves  huge  copper  spikes  of  young 
bamboo  —  ten  inches  across,  some  of  it,  as  it  pierced  the 
mould  — a  marvellous  springing  column  climbing  by  joints, 
two  feet  a  day,  toward  the  sun,  and  casting  off  brown  sheaths, 
like  outgrown  jackets.  Children  roamed  the  hedges,  the  rice- 
field  dykes,  and  copses  (forgotten  and  unbuilded,  sometimes 
in  the  very  heart  of  Yedo)  for  tsukushimbo  and  the  yellow 
chrysanthemum.  All  gardens,  even  those  amorphous  products 
of  Eurasian  uncertainty  surrounding  the  American  Legation 
and  Yuki's  official  home,  needed  to  be  fair.  Birds  came  to 
them,  and  early  butterflies.  The  sun  poured  down  upon  them 
in  equal  measure  his  golden  cataracts  of  joy. 

Saturday  of  the  first  week  came.  Pierre  Le  Beau  had  not 
been  mentioned  to  the  Princess  Hagane,  nor  had  she  found 
a  printed  notice  of  him  containing  a  hint  of  information. 
Cleverly  insulated  wires  of  venom,  it  is  true,  attached  to  her 
name  and  Hagane's.  Sometimes  Pierre  was  subtly  referred 
to,  but  never  openly.  Next  day,  thought  Yuki,  she  would 
go  to  church.  Perhaps  something  would  be  said  of  him  by 
the  ladies  who  always  crowded  so  eagerly  about  her  carriage 
door.  This  weekly  service,  in  the  Episcopal  church  at 
Tsukijii,  formed  now  the  closest  tie  that  bound  Yuki  to  her 
Western  memories.  It  was  anticipated  with  eagerness.  This 
link,  at  least,  she  told  herself  should  not  be  snapped. 
Hagane's  consent  that  she  continue  openly  her  Christian 
devotions  had  been  unqualified. 

The  mail  that  Saturday  morning  proved  unusually  large. 
An  American  mail-ship  was  in.  Several  letters  and  papers 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       317 

came  from  trans-Pacific  friends,  a  great  many  Tokio  social 
invitations,  a  few  notes  relating  to  Red  Cross  matters,  arid 
one  folded  pamphlet  with  a  Japanese  postmark.  She  knew 
from  its  pink  wrapping  that  it  was  "  The  Weekly  Hawk's 
Eye."  With  a  slight  shudder  she  put  the  evil  thing  aside, 
with  a  vague  reawakening  of  the  intention  to  burn  it  unopened. 
Slowly  she  read  her  letters  and  invitations.  She  glanced 
through  the  few  American  papers  for  any  blue  markings. 
All  were  finished.  She  leaned  to  gather  them  up  and  have 
them  taken  to  her  private  desk  upstairs,  when  the  sun, 
pointing  one  bright  finger  through  a  blind,  fell  upon  the  pink 
wrapper  and  rested  on  her  name.  "  Princess  Sanetomo 
Hagane."  It  looked  very  cheerful  and  suggestive.  The  dull 
pink  of  the  cheap  paper  glowed  into  a  rosy  hue.  Perhaps 
it  was  an  omen.  Perhaps  if  she  were  brave  and  opened  the 
sheet  boldly  she  would  find,  instead  of  the  usual  malicious 
innuendoes,  the  announcement  that  Pierre  was  leaving  for 
France.  Thinking  of  Hagane's  eyes  as  they  had  probed  her 
own  she  flushed,  trembled  a  little,  and  murmured  aloud, 
"Oh,  if  he  would  only  go  —  if  Pierre  would  only  go  —  how 
happy—  She  broke  off.  A  wave  of  compunction,  pity 
for  Pierre,  scorn  of  her  own  fickleness,  rushed  upon  her. 
She  took  the  paper  hastily,  set  her  lips  for  what  might  be 
in  store,  and  opened  at  random. 

Her  name  was  plain  enough,  and  Prince  Hagane's.  This 
time  headlines  had  been  dared.  "Prince  Hagane  soon  to 
leave  his  young  wife.  The  Nation  demands  his  presence  at 
the  centre  of  martial  differences.  Hagane  loath  to  leave  his 
young  wife.  Who  knows  what  may  happen  ?  M.  Le  Beau 
raving  in  delirium  at  the  German  hospital  in  Yokohama." 

So  much  she  read  and  paused.  Very  quietly  she  folded 
the  paper  and  slipped  it  within  a  gray  silk  sleeve.  She 
stooped  for  the  crumpled  pink  wrapping,  smoothed  it  also, 
and  dropped  it  in  her  sleeve.  Next  she  gathered  into  a  neat 
package  the  mail  she  had  been  reading,  rang  for  a  maid- 
servant, and  sent  the  mail  up  to  her  boudoir.  Her  orders  were 
given  in  the  usual  low,  pleasant  voice.  In  closing,  she  said, 
"  Should  visitors  come  I  am  to  be  found  in  this  room." 

Again  alone,  she  walked  to  a  western  window  and  stared 


318  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

out  at  the  great  square  shadow  of  the  house  thrown  across  the 
awkward  garden.  Beyond  the  straight  line  of  the  shadow, 
paths  shone  brilliantly  in  the  sun,  and  flowers  danced.  Spring 
had  come  a  little  early.  Everything  that  had  a  blossom  to 
show  rushed,  it  would  seem,  to  the  perfumed  exhibition. 

Yuki  shivered  slightly.  For  the  first  time  she  knew  that 
her  hands  were  growing  cold.  She  moved  slowly  toward  the 
fireplace,  an  ordinary  foreign  grate  with  coal  fire  burning. 
Nearer  the  warmth  she  drew  out  again  the  pamphlet, 
unfolded  and  deliberately  read  the  article  from  the  first  word 
to  the  last.  Some  passages  she  dwelt  upon,  extracting  to  its 
full  flavor  the  bitterness  of  frustrated  hope. 

According  to  the  "Hawk's  Eye"  correspondent,  Pierre  had 
caught  germs  of  malignant  malaria,  perhaps  of  typhus,  while 
wandering  in  a  state  of  great  mental  agony  along  the  moats 
that  border  a  certain  official  dwelling.  He  was  now  at  the 
crisis  of  his  malady.  Two  nurses  watched  him  night  and 
day,  for  his  dementia  had  made  of  him  a  cunning  schemer, 
full  of  sly  efforts  to  escape.  When  detained  he  raved  fear- 
fully, saying  that  he  had  "things  to  do."  "The  Hawk's  Eye" 
ingenuously  marvelled  as  to  what  these  "things  "  could  possibly 
be.  As  is  usual  with  articles  so  inspired  the  suggestions  were 
far  more  damaging  than  any  actual  statement. 

She  let  her  hands  fall  limp.  One  still  clasped  the  ugly 
journal.  Only  a  few  moments  before  she  had  accused  her- 
self of  heartlessness  toward  one  she  had  wronged.  In  her 
generosity  she  had  almost  demanded  a  deeper  suffering,  if 
only  it  could  be  directed  personally  to  her  offending  self,  and 
not  include,  in  its  consequences,  that  great  man  whose  name 
she  now  bore.  Well,  here  was  her  punishment,  —  a  fetid, 
scalding  stream  of  venom,  hurled  full  and  straight  at  her. 
Attacks  like  this  were,  she  knew,  less  to  Hagane  than  the 
mud  children  throw  against  the  base  of  a  lofty  statue.  His 
mind  moved  in  a  stratum  far  above  such  contamination.  The 
nation  spoke  direct  to  him.  His  ear  was  for  his  Emperor,  the 
old  gods  of  his  race.  "  Yes,"  thought  the  young  wife,  "  I 
wished  to  suffer  for. the  wrong  I  have  done,  but  these  wri th- 
ings of  a  polluted  personality  can  scarcely  be  dignified  by  the 
name  of  suffering.  It  is  as  if  one  went  forth  bravely  to  com- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       319 

bat  a  knight  in  armor  and  encountered  a  filthy  swine.  One 
cannot  retaliate  upon  a  beast.  Nor,"  —  here,  with  a  nervous 
transition  to  energy,  she  tore  out  the  offending  page,  —  "  nor 
can  I,  being  his  wife,  attempt  punishment  for  this  defile- 
ment." The  sound  of  tearing  paper  soothed  her.  One  by  one 
she  snatched  the  sheets,  crumpling  them  loosely,  and  threw 
each  in  turn  upon  the  coals,  where  it  twisted,  opened  its 
angles,  caught  in  a  little  puff  of  smoke,  and  burned  quickly. 
A  sound  came  to  the  front  door.  Some  one  opened  it.  She 
gathered  the  remaining  pages,  rolled  them  hastily  into  a  pithy 
sphere,  and  tossed  the  whole  mass  to  the  grate.  A  soft  explo- 
sion of  smoke  and  brightness  followed.  Red  light  fawned 
upward  to  the  slender  gray  figure  and  excited  face.  A  door 
of  the  drawing-room  opened,  and  the  draught  pulled  out  from 
the  grate  before  her  a  long,  pliant  tongue  of  flame.  She  felt 
Hagaue  catch  her  backward.  "  That  is  a  risk,  to  burn  papers 
in  these  great,  ill-constructed  chimneys,  my  little  one,"  he 
said.  Yuki  clung  to  him,  staring  up  into  his  face  to  try  to 
judge  whether  he  had  already  seen  the  offensive  article.  He 
had  an  unusual  animation.  She  even  fancied  that  his  voice 
shook ;  but  it  was  not  the  excitement  of  anger  or  disgust. 
Some  national  crisis  had  come.  His  next  words  proved  the 
truth  of  this  supposition.  "  I  wish  you  not  cremated  this  day 
of  all  days,"  he  smiled,  trying,  as  she  could  see,  to  speak  with 
some  lightness.  "  I  need  my  wife.  An  opportunity  for  ser- 
vice has  come,  more  important  than  all  that  has  gone  before. 
Are  you  ready,  my  Princess  ?  " 

"  Lord,  I  live  but  to  serve  you  and  my  land." 
"  We  are  in  a  national  crisis,  Yuki,"  said  her  husband.  He 
began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  long  room  with  an  abandon- 
ment to  agitation  which  she  had  not  seen  in  him  before.  "  A 
crisis,"  he  repeated.  "  I  shall  not  explain  the  matter  of  it. 
You  need  not  have  the  weight  and  burden  of  such  knowledge, 
but  you  can  aid  me  greatly."  He  paused  now  near  a  window. 
Yuki  followed.  "I  await  your  pleasure,  Lord,"  she  said. 

He  turned  to  her  the  deep  magnetic  gaze  she  dreaded,  yet, 
strangely  enough,  longed,  at  times,  to  provoke.  One  massive 
hand  leaned  on  her  shoulder.  She  had  no  impulse  now  to 
shrink  from  him.  She  longed  to  cower  against  the  strong 


320  THE  BREATH   OF. THE   GODS 

defence  of  him,  to  hide  in  his  breast,  in  his  sleeves,  as  the 
frightened  souls  of  little  dead  children  hide  in  the  sleeves  of 
Jizo  Sama.  As  though  understanding  the  unspoken  longing 
he  drew  her  very  near.  His  words  were  still  impersonal. 
"  Some  terrible,  hidden  things  long  suspected  have  come  to 
light.  I  do  not  believe  the  wrong  past  mending.  The  first 
step  in  restitution  comes  to-day.  It  is  a  secret  meeting  here, 
in  this  house,  —a  small  gathering  of  statesmen,  but  it  may 
mean  to  us  defeat  or  victory." 

"Yes,  Lord,  I  listen.     A  meeting  at  this  house." 

"  It  must  appear  to  be  a  casual  assembling.  No  servant,  not 
even  the  good  Tora,  is  to  be  trusted.  When  I  have  given 
you  full  instructions  I  return  at  once  to  the  palace.  Should 
any  unforeseen  chance  call  me  back  before  the  hour  of  one,  I 
charge  you  speak  no  words  into  my  ear,  nor  seek  to  deflect  my 
thoughts  from  their  ominous  course.  I  bear  a  heavy  burden, 
Yuki.  But  the  Gods  will  aid  me  in  my  strength." 

"  I  will  not  honorably  accost  or  fret  you ,  Lord." 

"  The  statesmen,  —  and  here  are  the  written  initials  of  their 
names," —  he  drew  a  small  scrap  of  paper  from  his  sleeve  — 
"  these  seven  statesmen,  including  Sir  Charles  Grubb  and  Mr. 
Todd,  will  be  ushered  as  usual  into  these  drawing-rooms.  If 
no  other  guests  be  present,  say  to  these  men  in  turn,  after  the 
first  salutations,  these  exact  words:  'I  have  received  from  my 
lord  instructions  and  the  initials  of  your  name.'  Can  you 
repeat  precisely  ?  " 

Yuki  did  so. 

"  That  is  well.  Thirteen  words,  remember.  They  make  to 
these  seven  a  sort  of  password.  Each,  as  you  speak,  is  to  be 
conducted  to  my  small  office-room  to  which  the  wooden  doors, 
and  the  heavy  portieres  also,  are  to  be  drawn." 

"I  understand,  your  Highness.  But  what  am  I  to  do  if 
other  visitors  come  ?  " 

"Ah,  little  Princess  Hagane,  it  is  in  such  straits  that  your 
experience  of  foreign  social  hypocrisy  must  be  made  to  serve 
you.  It  is  of  imperative  need  that  you  do  not  leave  this  room 
after  the  hour  of  the  Eat  (1  P.M.).  Yet  it  is  also  imperative 
that  you  receive,  equally,  all  guests.  Those  unbidden  you 
must  get  from  the  house." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       321 

"  It  is  a  difficult  task,  Lord,  but  it  may  be  done." 

"That  is  a  brave  wife.  Remember  that  not  only  from  the 
time  of  the  Rat,  but  this  hour,  too,  this  very  moment,  com- 
mences your  vigilance.  Tale-bearers  and  enemies  may  be  lurk- 
ing near.  If  human  ingenuity  can  keep  a  meeting  secret  this 
will  be  kept,  but,  alas,  in  a  time  of  great  issues  the  dragon's 
teeth  sow  spies  instead  of  men.  Do  you  understand  all  I  have 
said,  my  Yuki  ?  " 

"  I  understand,  your  Highness,  and  am  honored  to  do  your 
august  bidding."  Before  leaving  her  he  gazed  for  another 
moment  steadily  into  her  upraised  face.  "  You  are  pale  to-day 
as  your  name,  my  small  snow-wife;  yet  your  eyes  move  and 
glitter  with  a  strange  unrest." 

"  I  beseech  your  Highness  concern  not  your  weighty  thoughts 
with  my  unimportant  outer  appearance." 

"I  must  not  do  so,  indeed,"  murmured  her  husband.  "My 
chief  thought  now  must  be  my  Imperial  Master.  Farewell, 
little  one.  I  shall  arrive  at  one,  if  not  before." 

Yuki  followed  him  to  the  door  for  a  last  wifely  obeisance. 
The  carriage  had  been  waiting  for  some  moments.  After  the 
loud  rattling  of  wheels  came  a  hollow  silence.  Yuki  stood  on 
the  granite  doorsteps  looking  outward  with  unseeing  eyes. 
The  house-shadow  shrank  closer  to  the  huge  cube  that  cast  it. 
Sunshine,  like  a  golden  fluid,  brimmed  up  the  azure  walls  of 
day.  From  garden-beds  nearby,  and  from  path-borders  lead- 
ing into  hazy  distance,  blossoms  beckoned.  She  saw  only  an 
iridescent  blur.  The  jinchoke  (called  by  foreigners  Daphen 
Odora)  rose  in  waxen  masses  of  white  or  arbutus  pink.  Aza- 
leas heaped  formless  hillocks  with  Tyrian  hues,  and  the  long 
yellow  sprays  of  yama-buki,  to  which  Gwendolen  had  so 
often  been  compared,  poised  waiting  for  the  breeze,  or  else 
tossed  in  bright  indignation  at  the  sudden  desertion  of  a 
bird.  Sweet  odors  flowed  inward,  and  whispered  her  to  fol- 
low. Still  half  unconsciously  she  stepped  down  to  the  gravelled 
path  and  began  to  walk  in  the  garden. 

Sometimes,  among  the  beautiful  familiar  blooms,  an  alien 
flower  smiled,  a  budding  rose-tree,  or  a  purple  blotch  of  Eng- 
lish violets.  The  thought  of  Pierre's  danger  came  now  with 
less  of  acid  pain.  Perhaps  this  illness  was  to  save  them  both 

21 


322  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

—  and  Hagane.  The  long  hospital  days  might  bring  to  the 
young  Frenchman  clearer  judgment,  and  perhaps  a  more  for- 
giving heart.  In  convalescence,  surely,  he  would  wish  to  re- 
turn to  his  own  land.  At  such  times  the  spirit  is  fain  to 
leave  the  weak  body,  and  speed  on  before,  to  childhood's  home. 
She  had  reached  a  cluster  of  the  early  iris.  These  were 
Pierre's  flowers,  the  lilies  of  his  France.  She  stroked  the 
silken  petals  as  though  they  were  hands.  "Pierre,  my  poor, 
poor  Pierre,"  she  breathed  aloud. 

"My  Yuki-ko,"  came  as  an  echo. 

Yuki  started  and  looked  around  in  fear.  "  Little  flowers, 
was  it  you  that  spoke  my  name  ?  " 

"  Yuki,"  came  the  low  voice  again.  "  Do  you  grieve  for 
Pierre  ?  Poor  Pierre  is  dead !  "  He  stepped  out  from  behind 
a  cluster  of  dark  cypress-trees.  Yuki  bit  her  lips  to  keep 
from  screaming.  Was  this  the  ghost  of  the  man  she  had 
loved  ? 

"Yuki,"  said  the  phantom,  with  a  little  chill  whine  in  his 
voice,  "  won't  you  even  speak  to  me  ?  " 

"  Is  it  you,  Pierre,  or  is  it  indeed  your  newly  fled  spirit 
come  to  reproach  me  ?  " 

Pierre  ran  his  hands  through  his  short,  dry  hair,  then 
dropped  them,  as  if  the  effort  had  been  too  great.  He  took  a 
step  forward.  "  Why,  yes,  it  is  Pierre,  after  all.  I  thought 
I  was  dead,  but  I  am  not.  Yes,  sweetheart,  you  may  come  to 
me.  It  is  your  Pierre." 

Yuki  ran  to  him  and  caught  one  dangling  hand.  It  burned 
her  like  hot  metal.  "You  escaped,  in  spite  of  your  two 
nurses  ?  "  she  cried. 

Pierre  began  to  whimper.  "  Yes,  yes,  Yuki,  I  got  away  at 
last.  I  had  things  to  do.  Don't  send  ine  back  there,  Yuki ! 
My  room  has  bars,  like  a  cage." 

"  How  did  you  get  away  ?  " 

"  Little  Jap  nurse  could  n't  resist  me.  Told  me  of  a  back 
entry.  Nice  little  nurse  in  white  cap.  Jap  —  cap;  cap  — 
Jap.  Ha  — ha!" 

"Come,  dear,"  said  Yuki,  pulling  him  gently.  "I  will  not 
send  you  back.  You  shall  go  with  me  to  the  little  Cha  no  yu 
rooms  at  the  far  end  of  this  garden.  There  you  can  lie  down 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       323 

until  you  feel  better.     Will  you  follow  ine  quickly  and  in 
silence  along  this  little  path  ?"     She  pointed. 

"  Indeed  I  will  —  no  need  to  ask  twice,"  cried  the  sick  man, 
and  began  to  giggle  like  an  excited  child.  "  I  'd  follow  you 
anywhere,  Yuki.  Are  we  running  away  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Hush,  Pierre ;  if  you  laugh  and  speak  so  loud  others  will 
hear  you  and  send  you  back  to  prison.  We  must  be  very,  very 
quiet." 

"  Very  quiet,"  echoed  Pierre,  solemnly.  "  Never  do  for  old 
prince  to  hear  us,  oh,  no  !  "  He  began  to  mince  along  on  the 
tips  of  his  toes,  giggling  every  now  and  then  at  the  thought  of 
the  trick  they  were  playing. 

Yuki  sped  on  before  him,  like  a  fawn.  At  the  tea-rooms 
she  sprang  to  the  narrow,  railless  veranda,  drawing  a  single 
shoji  panel  carefully  to  one  side.  The  two  small  rooms  were 
in  order.  Sunken  into  the  floor  of  one  was  the  copper  hibachi, 
two  feet  square  and  now  filled  with  cold  ashes,  an  article 
indispensable  to  tea-rooms  of  ceremony.  The  sun  pouring 
against  translucent  paper  walls  flooded  the  small  space  with 
radiance. 

"  What  dear  little  rooms  !  "  exclaimed  Pierre,  as  he  scram- 
bled in,  panting.  "She  would  call  them  'cunning  little 
rooms,'  that  yellow-haired  American  girl.  What  was  her 
name,  Yuki  ?  She  is  not  a  good  friend  to  poor  Pierre ;  she 
could  not  swear  it  when  I  asked  her.  Are  these  the  little 
rooms  where  we  are  to  live,  Yuki,  now  that  we  have  run  away 
from  the  old  prince  and  are  married  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Yuki,  soothingly.  "Here  is  where  Yuki 
will  care  for  you  until  a  betterness  comes.  See,  I  shall  heap 
for  you  these  nice  cushions.  They  are  your  Japanese  pillows. 
You  must  lie  on  them  very  still,  and  keep  all  these  shoji  shut 
close  until  I  can  go  and  get  some  medicine  for  you." 

"  No ! "  said  Pierre,  fractiously .  "  Medicine  no  go !  Kusuri, 
ikanai !  Too  much  kusuri  every  day  at  hospital.  Nurses  all 
carry  spoons  in  their  belts.  I  don't  need  more  medicine,  Yuki ; 
only  for  you  to  kiss  me.  You  have  n't  kissed  me  all  day  ! " 
He  threw  himself  among  the  bright  cushions  and  began  toss- 
ing his  head  from  side  to  side. 

"  I  will  kiss  you  when  I  get  back,"  said  Yuki.    "  Only  prom- 


324  THE   BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

ise  to  lie  here  very  quietly  until  I  can  come,  and  many  times 
I  will  kiss  you." 

Pierre  raised  himself  on  an  elbow  and  looked  dubious. 
"  Kiss  me  before  you  start,"  he  demanded.  "  You  break 
promises,  you  know.  And  this  morning  you  have  such  a 
droll  fashion  of  going  suddenly  far  away,  and  then  starting 
back  quickly,  just  like  the  end  of  a  trombone  that  one  is  play- 
ing. You  must  be  a  witch,  Yuki,  to  move  so  swiftly  through 
the  air.  Kiss  me,  or  I  shall  not  believe  it  is  really  you." 

With  a  heart  strained  to  the  limit  of  endurance  Yuki  knelt 
beside  him  on  the  matted  floor  and  pressed  her  ashen  lips  to 
the  red  coal  of  his  mouth.  Pierre,  seizing  her  with  super- 
human strength,  kissed  her  again  and  again,  until  the  tortured 
woman  felt  that  she  must  rend  the  air  in  clamor  to  some 
native  god  or  demon  who  might  save  her.  This  passion, 
branded  on  the  soul  of  Prince  Hagane's  wife,  gained  a  new 
and  terrible  power  of  defilement.  In  a  spasm  of  anguish  she 
wrenched  herself  free,  went  backward  from  him,  and  seized 
the  shoji's  edge  to  hold  herself.  "  I  will  kiss  you  no  more 
until  you  take  the  medicine,"  she  said,  with  a  steadiness  that 
surprised  them  both. 

He  lurched  forward,  grasping  at  a  swaying  sleeve.  She 
eluded  him.  "  If  you  are  not  more  controlled  I  will  leave  you 
altogether,  and  send  police  to  take  you  back  to  Yokohama  !  " 
He  grovelled  at  her  feet  and  whimpered.  "  I  '11  be  good. 
Don't  send  me,  Yuki.  But  if  I  lie  quite  still  you  '11  kiss  me 
many,  many  times  again  when  you  return,  won't  you  ?  " 

Yuki  hesitated.  He  dragged  himself  half  upright.  "  You 
shall.  I  '11  kill  you !  I  '11  kill  myself,  here  !  You  must  kiss 
me.  A  wife  always  kisses  her  husband.  Swear  that  you  will 
kiss  me ! "  The  light  of  increased  madness  glared  in  his 
beautiful  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  '11  kiss  you,  I  swear  it,"  faltered  the  girl.  Pierre 
laughed  foolishly  in  his  satisfaction.  "  Then  I  '11  lie  still 
among  your  pillows,  little  wife.  Old  prince  sha'n't  find  us. 
Put  us  in  boiling  oil,  that  old  prince.  Don't  be  gone  too 
long,  little  wife." 

Yuki  hurried  along  the  intricate  paths  toward  the  house. 
Dry  sobs  rose  one  after  another  slowly,  coming  relentlessly 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       325 

upward  in  her  slender  throat  with  a  distention  that  grew  to 
agony.  "I  must  not  stop  to  think,  I  cannot  give  up  now," 
she  panted.  "O  Kwannon  Sama,  what  am  I  to  do?"  This 
black  hour,  like  some  dark  chemical,  was  turning  the  memory 
of  all  other  grief  to  light.  The  one  conscious  thought  which 
her  mind  hugged  jealously  was  Pierre's  necessity  for  medicine. 
Fortunately,  she  knew  a  little  of  this,  and  kept  a  well-filled 
chest.  His  fever  was  terrific.  Human  pity  demanded  that 
she  first  allay  this  raving  torment  of  the  blood  before  deliver- 
ing him  to  cold  officials,  or  even  to  Count  Eonsard  of  the  French 
Legation.  Her  thoughts  and  plans  in  this  present  bewilder- 
ment could  get  no  further  than  the  fever-draught  now  to  be 
given  the  sick  man.  With  shaking  hands  she  prepared  it, 
and  then  a  second  drink,  a  powerful  sleeping-potion.  She  got 
back  to  him  as  noiselessly  as  she  had  come.  Apparently  no  one 
had  seen  her.  Pierre  was  now  in  actual  fever-madness.  He 
had  thrown  coat,  waistcoat,  and  watch  in  various  parts  of  the 
room.  The  cushions  were  strewn  wide.  A  corner  of  one  rested 
in  hibachi  ashes.  In  one  of  his  hands  he  clasped  tightly  the 
half  of  a  long  ivory  hairpin. 

With  the  patience  of  a  mother  and  the  ingenuity  of  a  wife 
she  coaxed  him,  at  length,  into  swallowing  one  of  the  draughts. 
He  did  not  demand  the  promised  kisses.  He  did  not  know  her 
now,  or,  rather,  the  recognitions  came  in  short  flashes,  like 
heat  lightning.  Sometimes  he  took  her  to  be  Gwendolen  and 
accused  her  angrily  of  connivance  with  Hagaue  and  the  am- 
bitious Onda  family.  Again  he  thought  her  the  German  head 
physician  and  raved  of  his  wrongs.  He  passed  rapidly  from 
one  language  to  the  other,  essaying  at  times  his  broken 
Japanese.  It  was  generally  in  English  that  he  denounced 
his  faithless  sweetheart,  and  the  epithets  directed  against  her 
caused  Yuki's  heart  to  sink  with  shame,  —  not  for  herself, 
but  for  him. 

A  longer  interval  of  sanity  came.  He  recognized  his  com- 
panion with  piteous  little  cries  and  tears  of  joy.  He  believed 
that  at  last  they  were  married,  and  prattled  on  of  the  long, 
happy  future,  of  their  little  home  in  France,  until  Yuki,  hav- 
ing come  for  the  moment  to  the  end  of  suffering's  capacity, 
listened  with  a  dreary  smile  and  dull  ears. 


326  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

The  second  draught,  the  sleeping-potion,  was  to  be  given  in 
half  an  hour.  Through  that  interminable  time  she  waited, 
his  head  upon  her  aching  knees,  his  fevered  hands  reaching 
ever  for  her  face,  her  shoulder,  until  lethargy  alone  saved  her 
from  an  answering  insanity.  The  plan  was  half  formed  in  her 
dull  thoughts  to  administer  this  potion,  then,  when  slumber 
overcame  him,  to  close  the  shoji,  and  leave  Pierre  to  sleep  away 
the  fiercest  fever  while  she  could  think  out  a  way  of  getting 
him  from  the  garden.  But  for  the  political  meeting,  falling 
so  strangely  on  this  very  day,  the  situation  would  have  pos- 
sessed no  great  peril.  It  would  have  been  merely  a  sick  man 
who,  in  delirium,  had  wandered  unknowingly  into  Hagane's 
garden.  The  servants  might  have  found  him ;  Eonsard  have 
been  telephoned  for,  and  Prince  Hagane  himself  asked  what  was 
best  to  do.  This  was  what  might  have  been  ;  but  here  was  the 
matter  as  it  really  lay.  A  Frenchman,  and  attache  of  the  Lega- 
tion, —  ill  or  well  no  less  a  Frenchman  —  concealed  in  Hagane's 
garden,  sheltered  and  protected  by  Hagane's  young  wife! 
Yuki  gave  a  convulsive  shudder.  The  sick  man  gasped,  and 
clutched  the  air  as  if  he  thought  himself  falling  from  a  height. 
Fate  smiled  a  thin,  hard  smile  down  into  Yuki's  eyes. 

The  girl  did  not  resent  Fate's  prophetic  stare.  Already  she 
knew  herself  trapped.  Her  wild  thoughts  had  run  since  the 
beginning  of  eternity  in  this  same  ring  of  fire.  There  was 
time  for  nothing.  The  one  frail  chance  was  that  Pierre  should 
sleep  on  through  the  meeting  undiscovered.  Already  twelve 
o'clock  had  come.  From  the  high  land  near  the  samurai 
Onda's  home,  a  big  bell  boomed  and  quivered  out  over  the  city. 
The  echoes  stirred  and  shifted  tranquil  layers  of  the  noon. 
Fear  sank  down  like  soot  upon  a  crouching  woman  with  the 
sick  man  on  her  knees. 

Pierre,  for  some  moments  past,  had  gradually  ceased  the  rest- 
less tossing  of  his  head,  and  was  forgetting  to  utter  short,  dis- 
jointed words.  The  fair  hair,  that  had  been  so  stiff  and  dry, 
clung  now  in  moist  locks  about  his  temple.  His  delicate  hands 
ceased  twitching  and  picking  at  Yuki's  gown,  and  fell  over 
limply  on  the  floor.  Caught  loosely  in  the  right  hand  lay  the 
broken  hairpin.  To  any  Japanese,  of  any  class,  this  would 
be  fatal  evidence.  Under  her  fairy-like  touch  he  gave  a  start, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       327 

clutched  more  firmly  at  the  pin  she  was  trying  to  take,  and 
threw  his  hand  upward  above  his  heart.  Again  Fate  smiled, 
and  Yuki  bowed  her  head.  Now  a  soft,  regular  breathing 
began.  The  healing  sleep  was  on  the  sufferer.  His  face  was 
growing  young  and  gentle.  Yuki  stared  down  into  it,  tear- 
less. Her  heart,  like  some  living  entity  beaten  and  tortured 
too  long,  had  lost  the  power  of  sensitive  response.  There  was 
only  a  dull,  incessant  aching  that  was  becoming,  already,  an 
acknowledged  part  of  her. 

He  was  safe.  To-day's  crisis,  at  least  of  the  devouring 
heat,  was  over.  He  would  awake  refreshed  and  clear.  As  for 
her,  everything  had  grown  so  vague  and  far-away  she  cared 
very  little  what  might  happen.  The  insensibility  of  reaction 
bore  her  outward  on  a  warm  tide.  Danger  lost  its  mean- 
ing, and  grew  but  a  shadow-play  on  life.  A  Frenchman  in 
Hagane's  garden,  and  a  crucial  meeting  to  go  on  in  the  house ! 
There  was  something  piquant,  fetching,  in  the  idea.  Yuki 
nodded  above  it  and  smiled.  Oh,  she  was  so  tired,  so  tired  of 
everything  !  A  little  malicious  something  was  tapping,  tap- 
ping, just  at  the  base  of  her  brain.  The  ache  at  her  heart  be- 
numbed her.  A  desire,  dull  and  insistent  as  the  pain  itself, 
crept  to  her,  just  to  lie  upon  the  matting  near  poor  Pierre  and 
rest.  They  belonged  together,  the  weak  ones.  Chance  and 
disappointment  had  thrown  them  about  like  toys.  What  had 
such  as  they  to  do  with  the  God  Hagane  ?  Yes,  she  had  better 
fail  once  more,  and  it  would  be  the  last.  Let  the  grave  states- 
men come  and  go,  let  Hagane  seek  her !  She  had  nothing  to 
do  but  the  easiest  of  all  things,  just  to  do  nothing,  and  all  this 
benumbing  misery  would  be  at  an  end. 

She  wondered,  still  smiling,  in  what  way  Hagan6  would 
kill  her.  She  fingered  curiously  the  stops  of  a  dozen  fearful 
thoughts,  and  felt  no  fear.  Had  law  permitted  him  to  carry 
the  two  swords  of  his  class,  the  short  one  would  deal  a  quick 
and  merciful  death.  Since  he  was  unarmed  perhaps  he  would 
simply  let  one  of  the  servants  slay  her,  not  caring  to  soil  his 
hands  with  such  feeble  stains. 

An  influence  was  coming  over  her  in  rhythms,  like  tepid 
waves.  A  delicious  lightness  blew  upon  her  brain.  She 
gasped  for  insensibility  as  for  music,  dumb,  perfumed  music, 


328  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

drunk  in  by  pores  of  the  flesh.  One  small  nerve  of  desire 
began  to  tingle.  "  Oh,  let  it  go  on,"  she  cried  to  her  soul ; 
"  have  no  interference  !  Let  me  pass  into  nothingness  by  this 
heavenly  gliding ! " 

As  from  a  great  distance  came  footsteps  and  the  sound  of 
commonplace  voices.  Yuki  moaned  aloud,  and  crept  an  inch 
nearer  her  companion. 

"  She  was  seen  last  coming  in  this  direction,"  said  a  speaker ; 
"  li,  the  gardener,  saw  her." 

"  She  is  not  in  the  adzuma-ya !  Can  it  be  that  our  gracious 
lady  has  gone  for  repose  to  the  tea-rooms  ?  " 

"Baka!  "  exclaimed  the  other  whom  she  now  recognized  as 
Tora,  the  butler;  "is  not  that  great  official  residence  sad 
enough  and  lonely,  that  the  poor  child  seeks  a  more  desolate 
place  ?  I  pity  her." 

"Luncheon  becomes  honorably  cold  upon  the  table,"  mur- 
mured the  boy,  showing  compassion  in  his  own  way.  "  And 
foreign  food  when  chilled,  with  the  grease  becoming  as  wax 
about  the  edges,  is  of  all  sights  the  most  disgusting." 

"Ara,"  sighed  Tora,  "she  eats  little  enough  even  when 
the  food  is  hot." 

"  Those  many  disgraceful  things  said  of  our  lady  in  the  news- 
papers,"—  the  younger  servant  was  beginning,  when  Tora 
stopped  him  fiercely.  "  Gossip  not  of  your  betters,  boy !  You 
should  not  read  such  things.  There  are  no  truths  in  printed 
scandals.  Come,  not  that  way,  she  is  not  in  the  tea-rooms. 
I  see  a  fresh  disturbance  of  the  gravel  along  this  path." 

To  the  listener's  intense  relief  they  turned  sharply  to  the  left. 
Wide  awake  now  with  an  intensity  of  sensitiveness  that  made 
every  stirring  leaf  an  enemy,  the  young  wife  crept  outward 
from  between  two  shoji,  closing  them  with  the  extreme  of 
care.  In  full  sight,  on  the  veranda,  lay  her  little  foreign 
handkerchief.  No  other  woman  on  the  place  used  lace- 
bordered  handkerchiefs.  Tora  must  have  seen  and  recog- 
nized it,  and,  in  an  instant,  perhaps,  of  protection,  have  led  the 
boy  aside.  Yuki's  cheek  burned.  She  dared  not  think  Tora's 
thoughts.  This  humiliation  was  a  wound  made  with  a  weapon 
of  poor  metal,  yet  she  could  not,  even  then,  refuse  gratitude 
for  the  delicate  consideration. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       329 

As  the  two  servants  came  again  into  the  main  part  of  the 
garden,  their  mistress  walked  quite  leisurely  a  few  yards  be- 
fore, stooping  now  and  then  to  a  flower,  or  gazing  up  with 
smiles  to  a  blossoming  cherry-branch. 

"  Luncheon  is  served,  your  Ladyship,"  said  Tora,  gravely, 
and  bowed  before  her  in  the  path. 

"  I  will  come  immediately,"  returned  Yuki.  She  did  not 
meet  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FIVE 

DURING  the  short,  uncomfortable  meal  Tora  stood  like  a 
painted  stake  behind  his  mistress's  chair.  The  "boy,"  at- 
tempting to  supply  the  watchful  efficiency  his  senior  for  once 
appeared  to  lack,  kept  his  small  eyes  darting  from  her  white 
face  to  the  "  dirty  wax  "  at  the  edge  of  her  plate,  until  Yuki 
thought  she  must  deliver  herself  over  to  an  attack  of  laugh- 
ing hysterics.  Tora  poured  and  brought  her  wine  unbidden. 
Again  she  resented  his  presumption,  again  felt  a  cowed  sense 
of  thanks  for  his  solicitude. 

Abandoning  the  table  at  the  first  possible  moment,  she  went 
swiftly  upstairs  to  her  own  chamber  and  rang  for  the  maid. 
The  simple  morning  robe  of  smooth  silk  must  be  changed  for 
a  more  elaborate  afternoon  toilette.  She  selected  a  curdled 
gray  cre"pe  with  tiny  silver  pine-leaves  sprinkled  through  it. 
The  under-robe  was  turquoise  blue  ;  her  wide  sash  of  blue- 
black  satin  brocaded  in  conventionalized  silver  pine-branches. 

The  transfer  went  on  with  breathless  celerity,  yet  the  hands 
of  the  mantel  clock  moved  faster  still.  Ten  minutes  only 
lacked  to  the  hour  of  the  Rat.  The  sound  of  carriage-wheels 
crunching  gravel  rose  from  the  drive  below  her.  Yuki  gave  a 
restless  motion  of  her  entire  body,  and  turned  her  face  around 
to  the  maid,  who  now  tied  the  great  loop  of  the  sash. 

"Patience  an  instant  longer,  your  Ladyship,"'  smiled  the 
maid.  "  Let  me  but  girdle  your  illustrious  person  with  the 
obi-dome  and  I  shall  be  done." 

"  Here  is  the  obi-dome,"  cried  Yuki,  her  voice  betraying  her 
impatience.  "  I  shall  retain  one  clasp  while  you  wind  it  around 
the  sash."  She  took  up  from  among  the  American  toilet 
articles  on  her  dresser  the  article  desired,  a  flat,  soft  braid  of 
silk  with  golden  clasps.  Yuki,  as  she  had  said,  held  one  end 
against  the  front  of  her  sash,  while  the  maid  dexterously 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       331 

threaded  the  high  sash  loop  at  the  back,  and  brought  the 
answering  clasp  to  its  mate.  It  clicked  like  an  old-fashioned 
bracelet. 

A  servant  knocked  on  the  door.  Yuki  herself  answered. 
With  mingled  relief  and  perturbation  she  read  on  the  cards 
the  names  of  Mrs.  Todd  and  Miss  Todd.  It  was  an  unfortu- 
nate time  for  their  visit,  yet  now  as  always  the  thought  of 
Gwendolen's  presence  brought  a  little  stir  of  excitement,  a 
sweet  glow  of  true  happiness.  During  her  flight  downstairs 
Yuki  formed  the  clearest  resolution  that  had  come  to  her  in 
the  distracting  day.  She  would  tell  Gwendolen  of  Pierre's 
presence.  If  help  were  possible,  Gwendolen  would  find  a  way. 
The  new  hope  brought  a  little  glow  to  the  face  which  greeted 
her  American  friends.  A  little  talk  on  unimportant,  pleasant 
matters  would  refresh  and  steady  her.  For  a  moment  only 
did  the  bright  illusion  abide.  Gwendolen  and  her  mother 
bore,  in  common,  an  air  of  hesitating  excitement. 

"  Oh,  what  is  wrong  now  ?  "  cried  Yuki  to  them  both. 

"  Well,  you  are  quick ! "  said  Gwendolen ;  "  have  we  become 
mere  transparencies,  or  do  your  wits  acquire  a  preternatural 
alertness  in  these  big  rooms  ?  Yes,  there  is  something  wrong 
—  not  fatally  so,  only  a  menace." 

"  We  felt  it  our  duty,  Yuki  — "  began  Mrs.  Todd,  on  her 
lowest  register. 

"  Now,  mother,"  Gwendolen  interrupted,  "  you  promised 
faithfully  to  let  me  tell  Yuki  in  my  own  way.  You  sound  as 
if  you  hooted  from  a  cave.  It  isn't  anything  horrid,  dar- 
ling!" This  last  speech  was  directly  to  the  princess. 
"  Don't  begin  to  fade  away.  It  is  simply  that  Pierre,  who  has 
been  ill  at  the  German  hospital  in  Yokohama,  escaped  this 
morning,  in  delirium,  and  the  authorities  are  after  him." 

"In  delirium  —  raving  in  delirium  —  the  poor  tortured 
boy ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Todd's  sepulchral  tones. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  "  breathed  Yuki.  Her  face  showed  un- 
mistakable relief.  Gwendolen  stared  at  her,  incredulous. 

Mrs.  Todd  put  up  her  lorgnette.  "All!  Did  I  understand 
you  to  say  all  ?  Is  it  not  enough  ?  Have  you  known  before 
to-day  of  his  terrible  illness  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  I  have  not,  dear  Mrs.  Todd.    And  by  '  all '  I 


332  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

did  not  mean  the  heartlessness,  as  you  think.  I  only  meant 
—  I  meant  — 

"  Humph ! "  said  the  matron,  suspicion  deepening  with  the 
sight  of  the  young  wife's  confusion.  "  Perhaps  Pierre  has 
been  here  already.  Has  he  been  here,  Yuki  ?  " 

Yuki  looked  more  embarrassed  than  ever.  She  hesitated 
the  fraction  of  an  instant.  Gwendolen's  eyes  sent  out  one 
hazel  gleam.  "  No,  dear  Mrs.  Todd,"  answered  Yuki ;  "  Mon- 
sieur has  not  set  foot  in  this  house  since  my  first  reception, 
many  weeks  ago." 

"  Humph  ! "  said  Mrs.  Todd  again,  and  closed  her  lorgnette 
with  a  disappointed  snap.  "  Well,  there  's  time  for  him  yet ! 
You  had  better  look  out,  for  if  he  is  found  here  —  She  shut 
her  lips  with  a  snap  like  the  lorgnette-case.  Because  of  avowed 
sympathy  with  Pierre,  the  good  lady  had  assumed  an  air  of 
displeasure  with  Yuki  which  all  the  new  rank  and  wealth 
could  not  overcome.  Yuki,  strange  to  say,  liked  her  the 
better  for  it.  She  hugged  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Todd's  cool 
looks  as  a  fanatic  might  have  hugged  his  haircloth  shirt. 

Gwendolen  had  turned  away.  She  did  not  wish  either  Yuki 
or  her  mother  to  gain  a  hint  of  her  personal  thoughts.  At 
Yuki's  last  statement,  her  quick  mind  had  supplemented,  "  He 
has  not  set  foot  in  this  house.  No  — but  the  garden  is  wide, 
the  steps  and  galleries  inviting."  Yuki  hid  some  gnawing 
secret,  of  this  she  was  sure.  More  carriage- wheels  crunched 
the  gravel  and  Yuki's  heart  at  once. 

"  Ah,"  said  Gwendolen,  coolly,  now  beside  a  window, 
"  here  's  the  Emperor  come  to  see  you,  Yuki !  " 

Yuki  ran  forward  gasping.  Anything  might  have  happened 
on  this  reeling  day. 

"  No,"  laughed  the  other.  "  I  just  teased  you.  But  it  is 
some  magnate,  I  assure  you.  My  heavens,  what  a  swagger  ! " 

Mrs.  Todd,  hastening  to  her  daughter's  side,  drew  the  win- 
dow-curtain farther.  Her  face  glowed  with  satisfaction. 
"Prince  Korin,"  she  announced,  "he  is  a  dear  man!  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  meet  him  again." 

"  Come  along,  mother,"  said  Gwendolen,  a  little  brusquely; 
"he  has  n't  called  on  us." 

"I  sha'n't  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  the  matron,  indig- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       333 

nantly.  "Prince  Korin  took  ID e  in  to  dinner  last  week  at  the 
German  Legation.  Doubtless  he  will  be  as  much  pleased  as  I 
to  renew  the  acquaintance." 

"Please  do  not  urge  your  mother  to  depart,"  Yuki  flung 
back  over  her  shoulder  as  she  went  toward  the  door;  "I  want 
to  speak  with  you,  Gwendolen,  on  some  important  matter." 
Without  a  qualm  she  delivered  the  wondering  peer  into  the 
outstretched  hands  of  the  American  lady.  Drawing  Gwendolen 
to  a  corner  of  the  big  room  she  said,  in  a  low  and  agitated 
voice,  "  He  —  that  one  we  spoke  —  he  is  even  now  asleep  in 
this  garden.  It  is  terrible,  but  I  could  not  send  him  off.  I 
gave  medicine  ;  he  was  nearly  to  die  of  great  illness.  Make  no 
sound  or  look  of  surprise  ;  no  one  suspects,  unless  it  is  the 
butler,  Tora.  Perhaps  you  can  help  me.  What  makes  all 
more  dangerous,  more  terrible,  is  a  secret  meeting  of  state  to 
be  held  here  this  very  hour.  Prince  Korin  is  the  first.  You 
and  Mrs.  Todd  must  go  before  Hagane  come,  or  he  will  feel 
great  anger  to  me.  Your  father  is  to  arrive.  Oh,  Gwendolen, 
do  you  see  any  way  to  save  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  most  frightful  complication  I  ever  knew  in  my 
life,"  said  Gwendolen,  awed  for  once  into  calm.  "Why,  of 
all  days,  should  the  meeting  fall  on  this  ?  " 

"  Some  terrible  crisis  in  war.  All  may  depend  on  this  hour, 
—  our  very  national  existence." 

"I  knew  something  was  up.  Dad  is  cross  as  a  bear,  and 
Dodge  struts  like  a  turkey.  Yuki,  there  is  but  one  thing. 
Your  husband  must  be  told  the  moment  he  enters  this  house  ! " 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  do  that!  "  cried  Yuki.  "No  such  tearing 
thoughts  could  I  have  felt.  But  he  has  given  orders  to  me 
not  to  disturb  his  mind  on  anything  until  this  meeting  has 
passed." 

"Nonsense,  you  must  disobey  of  course,"  said  the  other; 
"  unless  I  myself  could  get  Pierre  out  of  the  garden."  Her 
practical  American  wits  worked  rapidly.  "  I  can  do  it  I  think. 
You  must  have  smaller  gates  to  these  high  walls." 

"  Yes,  yes,  on  all  other  days,"  said  Yuki.  "  But  not  just  for 
this  one  day.  Everything  —  everything  —  for  these  few  hours 
are  bolted.  I  think  it  to  be  karma,  Gwendolen.  No  use  to 
fight  for  me  ! " 


334  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

"  Now  look  here,  don't  go  into  despair  so  soon.  You  say 
you  gave  medicine.  Is  it  a  sleeping  draught  ?  " 

"  Yes,  first  the  strong  fever-cure  ;  then,  half-hour  later,  a 
sleeping  potion.  It  is  strong.  It  would  keep  the  Japanese 
asleep  for  many  hours." 

"  Go  to  your  husband,  Yuki.  You  must  do  it ;  never  mind 
disobedience  ! " 

"  But  if  some  strange  thing  that  you,  not  being  Japanese, 
cannot  foresee  should  hold  me  back,  do  you  think  there  is 
other  chance  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  said  Gwendolen,  "everything  is  in  your  favor. 
He  .will  sleep  until  after  the  meeting,  and  then  you  can  tell 
your  husband.  Only  the  risk  —  even  a  tiny  risk  —  is  so 
dreadful  I  shrink  from  having  you  take  it." 

"  Yesterday  Hagane  said  to  me,  *  A  wise  man  never  leaves 
something  to  chance,'  —  only  in  such  way  does  chance  surely 
serve  him." 

"  You  '11  come  through.  Don't  you  fret,  darling.  The  police 
would  not  dare  search  for  him  here.  Ah,  more  statesmen  !  — 
this  time  in  humble  jinrikishas.  The  prime  minister  in  a 
street  kuruma !  It  is  time  for  me  to  get  mother  away  !  " 

Ignoring  the  scandalized  side-looks  of  Prince  Korin,  Gwen- 
dolen stooped  to  her  friend,  folded  her  very  closely,  and  whis- 
pered a  low  torrent  of  words  of  love,  of  encouragement,  and 
of  confidence  that  she  did  not  altogether  feel.  Fate  hung  dark 
banners  on  the  false  battlements  of  Yuki's  official  home.  The 
great  square  shadow,  creeping  now  toward  the  east,  gathered 
dampness.  Gwendolen  shivered  violently  as  she  passed  under 
the  porte-cochere. 

"  You  need  n't  have  been  in  such  a  nervous  hurry,  Gwen- 
dolen," said  Mrs.  Todd,  with  tart  asperity.  "Prince  Korin 
and  I  were  having  a  delightful  chat." 

A  beggar,  unusual  sight  for  Tokio,  crept  in  through  the 
wide  gates  toward  the  fine  waiting  carriage.  The  driver 
leaned  over,  menacing  the  intruder  with  a  long  whip.  Gwen- 
dolen stopped  him.  A  sudden  impulse  made  her  open  and 
invert  her  pretty  purse.  A  few  silver  coins  fell  into  one 
gloved  hand.  She  leaned  down,  pressed  them  on  the  wonder- 
ing supplicant,  and  whispered  in  English,  "You  are  a  Jap- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       335 

anese.  You  have  a  soul  in  that  foul  body.  Pray  for  my 
Yuki!" 

Yuki  welcomed  the  new  arrivals,  repeated  her  password,  and 
ushered  them  personally  into  the  office.  She  stationed  her- 
self by  a  window,  now  watching  and  praying  that  her  husband 
might  come  soon,  and  alone.  Three  more  kuruma  rattled  in,  — 
common  street  kuruma.  In  the  first  two  were  Sir  Charles 
and  a  Japanese  cabinet  minister  ;  in  the  last,  Hagane.  The 
three  fell  into  deep  speech  before  the  drawing-room  could 
claim  them.  Hagane  led  them,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  the  office- 
door.  None  seemed  to  perceive  the  little  hostess,  clutching 
at  a  window-curtain. 

"  My  Lord,"  she  faltered,  coming  forward  swiftly  to  within 
a  few  feet  of  her  husband,  "may  I  speak  —  " 

He  turned  half-recognizing  eyes.  "  Who  already  have  seats 
in  the  inner  office  ?  " 

She  named  the  two  men.  u  Two  more  of  our  countrymen 
and  Mr.  Todd  to  come,"  he  murmured.  "  That  makes  the 
number." 

"Cannot  I  see  your  Highness  a  brief  instant  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

Two  more  Japanese  gentlemen  entered  on  foot.  Hagane 
conducted  them  to  the  door  of  the  office.  Yuki  kept  close  to 
him. 

"Lord,  Lord  —  my  husband  !"  she  cried  in  desperation. 

The  note  of  appeal  at  last  carried.  "  Any  personal  matter 
must  wait,  my  child,"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  but  with  a  de- 
cision that  blighted  hope.  "  I  thought  I  instructed  you  as  to 
this  also." 

Minister  Todd  arrived.  He  appeared  both  anxious  and  ex- 
cited. In  his  hand  he  carried  a  leathern  portfolio  filled  with 
papers.  His  nod  toward  her  had  absent-minded  indirectness. 
"  Oh,  Yuki,  it 's  you,  is  it  ?  I  suppose  you  have  been  coached. 
Have  the  rest  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  in  the  office  there,  where  I  am  to  conduct  you. 
May  —  may  I  speak  a  moment,  Mr.  Todd  ?  " 

"  Is  that  the  office  ? "  he  asked,  pointing.  "  I  tell  you, 
little  Princess  Yuki-ko,  big  things  are  doing  this  day  of  our 
Lord.  You  wish  to  speak  with  me  ?  " 

Hagane's  face  appeared  between  the  portieres.     "  Ah,  it  is 


336  THE   BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

his  Excellency  of  America.  Now  are  all  come.  This  way,  if 
you  please,  Mr.  Todd.  Remember,  Yuki-ko,  leave  not  this 
room  until  I  speak  with  you  again,  and,  if  possible,  let  no 
guest  enter." 

"  My  husband,"  cried  the  girl,  "  this  matter  on  my  heart 
is  no  light  thing.  I  must  speak  ! "  Both  men  turned,  frowning 
slightly.  "We  cannot  attend  to  hearts  just  now,  my  child," 
said  Hagane.  "  You  must  defer  your  communication." 

"  That  was  n't  like  Yuki  at  all  to  stop  us  at  such  a  time," 
mused  Todd,  as  he  followed  his  host.  "Your  Excellency," 
he  said  to  the  broad  silk-clad  back  before  him,  "  are  you  sure 
that  we  did  well  to  rebuff  that  little  girl  ?  " 

"I  am  only  sure,  this  hour,  that  our  land  is  menaced." 
Salutations  from  the  other  statesmen  interrupted  this  personal 
trend  of  talk. 

They  had  passed  into  the  office  together.  Yuki,  standing 
alone  in  the  centre  of  the  big  room,  wan  with  the  new  re- 
jection, watched  them  with  a  curious  external  interest,  and 
dwelt  in  her  mind  upon  the  difference  of  character  exhib- 
ited in  the  two  vanishing  backs.  The  hollow  brass  rings 
of  the  portieres  hissed  and  clashed  together.  A  steady  arm 
drew  the  wooden  panels  of  the  door.  She  heard  a  key  turn. 
She  was  alone  on  guard.  With  a  gesture  so  common  to  Jap- 
anese women  she  put  both  hands  up  lightly  to  her  hair,  pat- 
ting abstractedly  the  shining  loops.  A  dizziness  crept  under 
her  eyelids.  The  ugly  walls  of  the  room  began  slowly  to  turn 
on  axes  of  silence.  She  felt  her  head  droop  with  the  strange 
drowsiness  she  had  known  an  hour  before ;  a  low  moan  came 
from  whitening  lips.  Staggering  to  a  window  she  threw  up  a 
sash,  flung  the  blinds  apart,  and,  clasping  her  clenched  hands 
upon  the  sill,  knelt,  and  let  her  head  rest  upon  them. 

The  inrush  of  the  sweet  spring  winds,  and  this  interval  of 
quiet,  following  so  closely  upon  a  series  of  bewildering  events, 
brought  soon  a  balm  of  healing.  Yuki  had  a  nature  essen- 
tially calm  and  self-contained.  Emotion  stirred  and  some- 
times swept  her  from  her  feet,  but  it  was  an  emotion  that  had 
no  surface-play.  Each  quiver  of  her  face  answered  but  weakly 
some  fundamental  throb  of  being.  She  had  not  the  usual 
girlish  terror  to  bestow  on  scampering  mice  and  dark  corridors. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       337 

Excitement  generally  steadied  her.  The  one  unruly,  unclas- 
sifiable  influence  in  her  life  had  been  Pierre,  —  his  strange 
love-inaking,  his  exotic  fascination. 

In  a  little  while  she  rose  from  her  knees,  drew  a  chair 
toward  the  opened  window,  and  seated  herself.  Her  eyes,  in- 
stead of  seeking  the  natural  loveliness  without,  fell,  in  a  new 
abandonment  to  thought,  upon  the  great  bouquets  of  Hano- 
verian roses  woven  in  the  foreign  carpet  at  her  feet.  In  the 
garden-bed  just  beneath  her,  bushes  of  daphne,  of  azalea  and 
the  golden  yama-buki  were  in  bloom.  A  bird,  swinging  on  a 
spray  of  the  weeping  pink  cherry  just  across  the  path,  sang  to 
inattentive  ears.  Bees  droned  incessantly.  From  the  closed 
doors  of  the  little  office  came  a  reflected  murmur.  Now  from 
the  blur  of  tone  shot  a  sudden  slap  as  of  a  hand  struck  upon 
a  bare  table.  A  voice  cried  in  English,  "  Gentlemen !  gentle- 
men ! "  and  a  chorus  of  voices,  "  Sh-h-h  —  "  Yuki  caught 
herself  back  to  the  terrific  import  of  the  moment.  What  were 
those  great  men  thinking  and  saying  behind  the  closed  doors  ? 
And  what  was  her  small  single  danger  to  the  issues  they 
represented  ?  She  walked  down  the  west  wall  of  the  room 
in  the  direction  of  the  office.  Two  low  French  windows, 
opening,  indeed,  to  the  very  floor,  gave  upon  an  uncovered 
balcony.  She  parted  the  glass  door-frames  of  a  window  and 
stood  still,  gazing  outward,  this  way  and  that,  down  and  along 
curved  paths  where  sunshine  lay  like  yellow  silk,  and  flying 
shattered  waifs  of  blossoms  made  wonderful  wind-blown  pat- 
terns. Her  eyes  clung  longest  to  a  little  path  just  skirting 
a  great  stone  lantern,  for  this  led  to  certain  tea-rooms  at  the 
far  end  of  the  garden.  Now  she  walked  slowly  all  around  the 
room,  pausing  at  the  main  door  which  led  in  from  the  front 
hallway.  Footsteps  were  advancing.  Yuki  opened  to  them. 

"  The  noble  Sir  Onda  has  arrived,  —  father  to  your  High- 
ness," said  Tora. 

Yuki  hesitated.     "  Does  my  mother  accompany  him  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Ladyship,  it  is  Sir  Onda  alone.  He  desires  audi- 
ence with  my  angust  master,  but  I  told  him  I  had  received 
orders  to  usher  all  visitors  directly  to  your  presence." 

"Quite  right,  Tora,"  said  Yuki,  trying  to  smile  in  a  pleas- 
ant, unconcerned  way.  "Now  say  to  my  father  that  his 

22 


338  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Highness,  Prince  Hagane  is  absent,  but  may  return  in  the 
space  of  two  hours.  I  am  engaged  on  certain  duties  at  my 
Lord's  command.  And,  Tora  —  " 

"  Yes,  your  Ladyship." 

"  See  that  the  visitor  issues  well  into  the  street  on  leaving, 
and  close  the  iron  gate." 

"  Yes,  your  Ladyship." 

The  man's  words  and  his  bow  had  been  quite  as  respectful 
as  usual,  perhaps  a  little  more  than  usual,  yet  Yuki  could  not 
divest  herself  of  the  impression  that  there  lurked  a  threat  of 
comprehension,  of  nearness.  "When  I  have  explained  all  to 
my  prince,  we  shall,  perhaps,  send  good  Tora  away  to  some 
country  estate.  I  could  not  endure  his  presence  if  I  knew  he 
harbored  such  a  belief,  and  equally  impossible  is  it  for  me  to 
condescend  to  self-defence,"  thought  the  young  wife.  In  her 
morbid  state  of  consciousness,  she  could  almost  see,  as  a 
clairvoyant,  Tora  creeping  to  the  shoji  of  the  tea-rooms, 
parting  the  panels  with  crafty,  expectant  fingers ;  she  could 
hear  his  gasp  of  consternation,  of  not  altogether  displeased 
agitation,  as  he  discovered  the  beautiful  young  foreigner 
asleep  on  the  floor,  as  he  gazed,  grinning,  upon  the  broken 
hairpin. 

Since  the  butler's  knock,  and  Yuki's  few  words  with  him, 
absolute  silence  had  prevailed  in  the  little  office;  the  very 
door  seemed  holding  its  breath.  Yuki  heard  the  panel  pushed 
cautiously  to  one  side,  and  knew  that  her  husband  listened. 
She  went  to  her  former  place  by  the  window.  Now  the  bees 
outside,  and  the  buzz  of  human  voices  within,  recommenced. 
Into  the  latter  crept  vivacious  exclamation.  The  clink  of 
glasses  arose,  and  now  the  sharp  detonation  of  a  match; 
more  than  once  a  smothered  laugh  was  heard.  Yuki  sat  by 
the  window  in  apparent  calm ;  her  agony  of  suspense  would 
soon  be  over.  Those  were  the  sounds  that  come  at  the  end  of 
an  important  conference,  not  in  the  midst  of  it.  She  clenched 
her  little  hands  together  within  gray  sleeves,  and  faced  the 
office-door,  to  be  in  readiness  with  her  smile  when  the  grave 
procession  should  emerge.  Another  ten  minutes  elapsed,  and 
another;  the  garden  shadows  gained  visibly  in  length.  Like 
a  little  image  of  propriety,  she  sat,  and,  for  all  her  prepara- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       339 

tion,  a  small  shiver  passed  along  her  frame  as  the  office-door 
at  last  went  flying  aside. 

So  set  had  been  her  eyes,  her  thoughts,  upon  this  door,  that 
she  had  not  heard  the  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps  without  or 
the  soft  brushing  aside  of  clustered  shrubs.  Pierre  stood, 
bareheaded,  under  the  weeping  cherry.  The  drooping  branches, 
each  set  along  its  entire  length  in  single  pink  amethysts  of 
bloom,  enclosed  him  as  in  a  fountain.  The  lower  part  to  his 
knees  was  hidden  in  waves  of  yama-buki.  The  wind,  now 
rising,  concealed  with  tossing  sprays  his  trembling  nook. 

First  the  doors  of  the  office,  then  the  thick  portieres  had 
been  flung  aside  by  Prince  Hagane.  The  notable  company  filed 
in,  the  Japanese  not  forgetting  the  slight,  ceremonial  bow  to 
Hagane,  who  stood  smiling  to  let  them  pass.  The  last  to 
emerge  was  Minister  Todd.  He  bore  in  his  hand  a  paper 
folded  and  sealed.  Hagane  kept  close  behind  him.  As  the 
rest  of  the  company  came  forward,  making  adieux  to  the 
flushed  and  dignified  little  hostess,  these  two  stood  apart, 
talking  in  low  tones.  Todd  now  and  again  tapped  the  paper 
by  way  of  emphasis. 

Pierre,  crouching  among  the  sprays  of  yama-buki,  saw  and 
heard  it  all.  His  fever  and  madness  were,  for  the  moment, 
things  that  had  not  been.  The  price  he  would  later  pay  for 
this  immunity  did  not  trouble  him  now.  He  seemed  all  mind 
and  spirit  and  keen  intelligence,  with  no  encumbering  body. 
Nothing  was  impossible.  He  would  scarcely  have  been  sur- 
prised had  he  begun  to  drift  toward  that  inner  room  without 
effort,  as  one  sometimes  drifts  in  dreams,  and  to  enter  unper- 
ceived  by  anyone  but  Yuki.  There  she  stood,  his  sweetheart, 
his  promised  bride,  kept  from  him  by  that  great  monster  who 
towered  near  and  kept  talking  to  the  thin  American,  and  kept 
tapping  a  paper  that  bore  a  great  seal,  red  like  blood.  It 
should  be  blood,  Pierre  thought,  with  a  slight  rise  in  his 
excitement,  —  the  blood  of  that  old  toad  who  had  cheated  him 
of  this  flower.  But  did  a  toad  have  blood  at  all  ?  Well,  there 
was  a  way  to  find  out !  When  the  American  left  he  would 
steal  in,  a  new  St.  George  pursuing  an  uglier  dragon.  He 
felt  now  feverishly  in  his  pockets  for  a  knife,  a  pistol.  He 
remembered  now  that  the  pistol,  a  pretty  toy  of  silver  and 


340  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

pearl  given  him  by  a  Parisian  actress,  had  been  left  at  the 
French  Legation.  A  moment  after,  reason  again  grasped 
him.  He  smiled  bitterly,  calling  himself  a  child,  a  fool. 
Nothing  could  be  worse  for  France  or  Yuki  either  than  the 
death  of  Hagane  at  his  hands.  Some  other  way  must  be 
found.  The  Japanese  themselves  had  a  saying,  "  If  you  hate 
a  man,  let  him  live."  Yes,  let  the  old  man  live.  Yuki's  true 
lover  could  yet  win  her,  undrenched  in  any  blood.  That 
paper  now,  —  if  he  could  secure  such  a  paper  —  Hagane 
would  give  any  price  for  such  a  paper ! 

All  the  guests  had  gone  but  Mr.  Todd.  He  smiled  down  at 
Yuki  and  said,  "Well,  little  girl,  I  guess  Uncle  Sam  has  done 
your  country  a  good  turn." 

"Madame  la  Princesse  is  not  burdened  by  me  with  state 
secrets,  your  Excellency,"  interposed  Hagane,  with  more  than 
his  wonted  haste. 

"I  understand.  I  sha'n't  say  more,"  laughed  the  other. 
"  What  was  it,  Yuki,  that  you  tried  to  tell  us  just  before  the 
meeting  ?  " 

Yuki  now  could  afford  to  smile  and  look  demure;  her 
danger  was  over.  The  great  strong  rock  of  Hagane's  presence 
was  near.  "  The  need  is  past  now,  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Todd," 
she  said. 

"  Good-bye,  both  of  you.  You  're  looking  mighty  young  and 
happy,  Prince,  if  there  are  hard  struggles  in  the  nation ! " 

He  was  gone.  Yuki,  glancing  upward  to  her  husband, 
was  surprised  and  then  herself  embarrassed  to  note  signs  of 
discomfiture  on  that  bronze  countenance.  Was  it  possible 
that  Todd's  light  words  could  move  him  ?  Yuki  went  closer 
still.  She  could  not  meet  his  eyes,  but,  oh,  the  restfulness, 
the  relief  in  his  splendid  nearness !  Her  explanation  rushed 
to  her  lips  and  hung  there.  After  the  manner  of  good  wives, 
she  must  first  show  interest  in  what  was  uppermost  in  his 
thoughts,  and  afterward  could  gently  incline  him  to  her  own 
desire. 

"Is  that  the  very  wonderful  paper  just  signed,  Lord?"  she 
asked,  putting  up  a  hand. 

Hagane  glanced  at  the  document,  then  bent  to  his  wife  the 
look  she  dreaded,  yet  longed  for.  Under  it  she  stirred  and 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       341 

quivered.  '"  You  are  a  white  flower,"  said  Hagane.  "Do  you 
really  care  to  know  ?  " 

"I  —  I  —  wish  not  to  be  disrespectfully  inquisitive,"  stam- 
mered Yuki,  "  only,  if  the  importance  is  so  great,  is  there  not 
danger  to  your  august  person  in  bearing  it  about  ?  " 

Again  Hagane  smiled.  His  young  wife  hung  her  crimson- 
ing face.  He  put  out  an  arm  and  caught  her  to  him.  "Is 
that  your  fear  —  you  thing  of  snow  and  plum-blossom  ?  Ah, 
Yuki  —  Yuki  —  you  are  my  wife.  When  this  time  of  stress 
and  peril  is  at  an  end,  I  shall  try  to  teach  you  something  of  a 
brighter  hue  than  duty." 

Pierre,  high  on  his  knees  among  the  yama-buki,  saw  and 
heard  it  all. 

"  If  there  be  danger,  you  must  not  bear  it !  The  risk  is 
terrible.  Think,  Lord,  how  our  country  needs  you!"  Her 
apprehension  lifted  her  a  little  from  self-consciousness. 
Hagane's  answer  was  calm,  steady,  with  a  thrill  in  it.  "  Then 
who  is  to  bear  it,  small  sweet  wife,  if  I  should  put  it  down  ? 
But,  no,  there  must  be  no  thought  of  thee  and  me  —  not  yet. 
I  belong  to  the  land.  In  all  haste  must  I  take  the  paper  to 
our  Imperial  Lord.  Every  moment  means  a  danger.  Ring 
instantly  for  the  carriage,  —  I  must  go  !  " 

"  The  single  horse  coupe  is  now  being  repaired,"  said  Yuki, 
in  a  troubled  tone,  "  and,  more  unfortunate,  one  of  the  pair  of 
carriage-horses  is  ill ;  but  I  can  order  your  kuruma  with  two 
runners." 

"  Unfortunate,"  echoed  Hagane,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  yet  such 
small  annoyances  beset  the  way  of  all.  Ring  for  my  stoutest 
kuruma,  Yuki,  and  have  three  runners.  They  will  bear  me 
as  swiftly  as  any  horse." 

"Lord,"  faltered  Yuki,  not  moving  from  him,  "you  as- 
sured me  that  after  the  meeting  I  should  have  speech  with 
you.  The  matter  is  indeed  of  importance,  perhaps  of  great 
danger." 

"  Well,  I  will  listen,  child,  if  you  can  be  brief.  But  first 
touch  the  bell  and  give  my  order." 

Yuki  went  across  the  room  from  him.  He,  frowning 
slightly  at  the  delay,  stood  as  he  had  been  standing,  his  back 
squarely  to  the  office-door,  his  left  shoulder  toward  the  opened 


342  THE  BREATH  OF   THE   GODS 

French  window.  Yuki,  not  ten  yards  before  him,  had  reached 
the  wall  where  the  electric  button  was  set.  She  raised  a  slim 
hand  to  it,  but  before  she  could  press  it,  a  certain  flicker  as 
of  an  animated  shadow  moving  in  the  room  behind  Hagane 
drew  her  curious  and  anxious  glance.  The  outstretched 
arm  fell,  paralyzed.  She  attempted  to  speak,  to  cry  aloud, 
but  her  throat  had  turned  to  cork.  Pierre  Le  Beau  was  creep- 
ing into  the  room  like  a  thief,  a  cat,  skirting  the  wall  in  the 
direction  of  the  office-door.  He  caught  her  frozen  stare  of 
terror,  and  made  a  defiant  gesture,  commanding  silence. 

Hagane  raised  his  head.  The  delay  puzzled  him.  He  had 
been  examining  again  the  crimson  seal.  The  look  on  his 
wife's  face,  come  with  such  terrific  suddenness,  sent  some- 
thing almost  like  fear  through  his  heart.  He  thrust  the  paper 
in  his  breast,  and  turned  to  scan  the  room.  Pierre  was  in  the 
safe  shelter  of  the  columnar,  massed  portiere. 

Yuki  clawed  and  mowed  her  way  through  a  jungle  of  fire 
toward  her  lord.  "  Master,  master !  "  she  whispered  hoarsely. 
She  could  say  no  more,  and  fell  prone  on  her  knees  before 
him,  reaching  upward  for  his  grasp. 

"  What  ails  you,  child  ?  In  the  name  of  Shaka,  what  has 
hurt  you  ?  "  He  bent  to  raise  her,  but  she  grovelled,  eluding 
his  hands. 

"  I  am  ill,  very  ill  ;  let  us  go  quickly  to  our  chamber," 
she  managed  to  choke  out.  Now  she  fluttered  backward, 
luring  him,  like  a  wounded  bird,  her  long,  gray  sleeves 
trailing  after. 

"  In  Shaka's  name  ! "  he  cried  again,  "  I  cannot  understand 
the  suddenness." 

Pierre  now  left  the  portiere,  and  stole  softly  toward  the 
bent  back  of  the  prince.  Yuki  thought  him  mad,  with  a 
new  strength  and  cunning  of  murderous  intent.  She  sprang 
up  to  her  feet,  hurling  all  her  slight  weight  against  Hagane 
with  such  force  that  he  swerved.  With  a  movement  like 
light  she  had  passed  him,  set  her  back  to  his,  and  was  facing 
Pierre.  "  Here  —  here  —  kill  me  —  not  him  —  "  she  panted. 
"  I  am  ready ;  I  do  not  fear.  See  how  white  my  breast  and 
soft!  Oh,  blood  will  look  so  pretty  here,  — like  the  red  seal ! " 
She  tore  aside  the  dove-gray  folds  of  her  gown. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       343 

Hagane,  wheeling  to  them,  half  drew  the  paper  from  his 
breast.  The  Frenchman  saw,  and  as  Hagane  turned,  lowered 
his  head  so  that  his  face  might  still  be  hidden,  reached  out 
a  hand,  and,  with  one  demon-directed  dart  of  the  nervous 
ringers  had  touched,  had  clutched,  had  wrenched  away  the 
long  white  screed  of  fate  that  bore  a  single  drop  of  blood. 

For  one  awful  crash  of  time,  the  solid  earth  split  beneath 
the  statesman's  feet.  Pierre  had  gone  through  the  low  window 
like  a  breeze,  and  his  flying  track  through  the  shrubs  stirred 
them  scarcely  more.  Hagane  staggered  as  his  mind  confirmed 
this  strange,  annihilating  loss.  A.  moment  more  and  he  was 
again  calm  master  of  his  fate.  He  took  Yuki  by  a  shoulder, 
held  her  from  him,  and  scorching  her  eyes  with  the  scorn  of 
his,  said  steadily,  "  So  this  is  what  ailed  you,  Princess  Hagane  ! 
Why  did  you  give  no  warning  ?  Tell  me  the  name  of  the  thief." 

Yuki  blinked  and  moved  her  head  backward  and  forward 
through  the  air.  She  put  up  a  hand  to  herthroat of  cork,  and 
smoothed  it. 

"  Answer  me,  Yuki,  who  was  that  man?" 

She  did  not  answer.  Suddenly  she  sagged  to  his  feet, 
wrapping  her  long  gray  sleeves  about  his  ankles.  "Oh, 
Master,  do  not  kill  him  !  He  is  a  very  sick  person,  yes  !  I 
will  get  the  paper  for  you,  Lord.  I  will  get  it  for  you,  I  will 
get  it!"  she  chattered  in  English.  Why,  at  this  central 
crisis  of  her  life,  she  should  have  spoken  English  to  a  Japanese 
was  something  that  she  never  understood. 

Hagane  looked  down  upon  her  silently.  He  could  not 
move  for  the  coils  around  his  feet.  He  saw  clearly  that  she 
had  reasons  for  detaining  him,  and  his  mind  went  naturally 
to  the  one  solution.  "  This  was  a  lover  she  protected."  Yet 
he  was  calm,  his  grave  dignity  unassailable.  His  lips,  his 
chin,  his  down-bent  lids  were  of  metal ;  only  at  the  temples, 
veins  sprang  and  stood  like  branches  of  dull  red  coral. 

"I  shall  not  ask  again,  Yuki ;  will  you  tell  me  the  name 
of  the  man  who  has  gone  ?  " 

Yuki  stared  up  at  him  through  flickering  lids.  The  air 
snapped  into  little  particles  of  jet  and  tinsel.  Things  were 
getting  the  queer  look.  She  feared  that  she  was  going  to 
laugh.  "Was  there  a  man,  Lord?"  she  questioned. 


344  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"Gods!"  said  Hagane.  His  nostrils  blew  in  and  out,  and 
still  his  voice  was  even  and  kind,  "Yuki-ko,  your  country, 
the  life  of  our  Emperor,  may  be  menaced  by  this  theft.  Can 
any  bodily  passion  exonerate  this  ultimate  crime  ?  " 

A  great  spasm  seized  the  crouching  woman.  "  Lord,  have 
mercy  on  my  weak  heart ;  but  I  can  get  the  paper  —  I  alone 
can  get  it ;  I  will  buy  it  for  you  with  my  life  ! " 

"Bah  —  your  life!  We  do  not  offer  carrion  to  the  Gods. 
Unloose  my  feet,  —  poor  soiled  thing.  Do  not  touch  me  !  " 

Yuki  hid  her  face  against  his  feet.  Her  arms  coiled  like 
steel  bands. 

Slowly  and  deliberately  he  knelt  and  untwined,  as  he  might 
the  tendrils  of  a  vine  he  did  not  wish  to  bruise,  her  clinging 
arms,  the  long  gray  sleeves.  There  was  no  roughness  in  any 
movement  except  at  the  instant  when  he  snapped  the  obi- 
dome,  intending  to  use  it  to  bind  her  wrists.  She  felt  his  in- 
tention, and  waited  craftily  until  he  had  almost  drawn  the 
first  noose,  then  slipping  her  arms  away,  encircled  again  his 
patient  feet,  babbling,  "Let  me  get  it.  He  was  ill;  he  did  not 
know.  Harm  him  not.  I  will  get  the  paper."  In  her  dis- 
tracted thought  some  other  self,  anterior  to  this,  seemed  to 
be  at  a  great  distance,  running  side  by  side  with  Pierre,  and 
jerking  out  to  him  through  failing  breath :  "  I  hold  Hagane 
back,  but  it  cannot  last  very  long.  Do  not  harm  him,  —  I 
will  do  what  you  wish,  Pierre,  I  will  be  what  you  wish ; 
already  Hagane  casts  me  off,  but  do  not  harm  him.  Quick, 
quick,  poor  inad  boy,  my  strength  fails  !  Hagane  is  coming  — 
coming  —  " 

His  first  failure  brought  no  impatience  to  the  statesman. 
With  more  elaborate  care  he  again  knotted  the  obi-dome  and 
drew  it.  He  succeeded  now  in  securing  the  fluttering  hands. 
His  one  sign  of  agitation  was  deep,  heavy  breathing.  As  he 
raised  his  head  from  the  task,  on  the  white  balls  of  his  eyes 
tiny  crimson  threads  broke  through.  Yuki  stared  upward,  dazed, 
into  his  face.  "  Look  not  on  me,"  he  said,  as  he  prepared  to 
rise.  "  Put  your  false  face  to  the  earth.  If  I  thought  a  shiver 
of  obedience,  of  loyalty  were  left  in  your  cringing  soul,  I  would 
command  you  to  stay  here  quietly  —  and  seek  not  to  follow,  and 
so  make  more  open  this  disgrace.  Hide  your  eyes,  I  say  I 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       345 

Sooner  would  I  caress  a  grave-worm  than  thee  ! "  He  pushed 
her  down  with  some  violence,  rose,  and  hurried  to  the  rear 
of  the  house.  Yuki  turned  her  face  sidewise  to  follow 
him.  UA  kuruma,"  she  heard  him  call,  "and  three  swift 
runners  !  Ten  yen  each  to  the  men  if  they  start  within  the 
moment !  " 

He  stood  bareheaded  in  the  sunshine,  his  watch  opened  in 
his  hands.  As  if  by  invocation,  the  kuruma  and  the  grinning 
coolies  appeared.  Yuki  crawled  a  few  inches,  and  strained  her 
dry  throat  outward,  listening  for  the  address  he  was  to  give. 
No  effort  had  been  needed  for  hearing.  His  voice  had  the  ring, 
the  resonance  of  a  deep  bell,  as  he  said  aloud,  "  To  the  French 
Legation ! " 

Yuki,  when  she  was  sure  that  the  whole  place  had  fallen 
quiet,  slowly  lifted  herself  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  foreign 
carpet,  in  the  very  centre  of  a  huge  bunch  of  vermilion  cab- 
bage roses.  She  gazed  with  intense  scrutiny  at  one  of  these 
unearthly  blossoms.  It  reminded  her  of  something,  a  very  terri- 
ble something,  which  had  happened  to  her  long  ago.  She  tried 
to  put  a  hand  out  and  trace  the  irregular  circle,  but  something 
held  her  hands  together.  She  stared  now  at  the  hands,  at  the 
twisted  obi-dome.  Its  golden  clasps,  now  broken,  hung  down 
and  clinked  together  like  the  toys  on  a  lady's  chatelaine.  The 
sight  recalled  her  to  the  present,  and  solved  the  suggested 
mystery  of  the  harsh  red  rose.  It  was  of  sealing-wax  the 
flowers  had  reminded  her, —  of  a  great  crimson  seal,  of 
enamelled  paper. 

"But  I  kept  him  back  quite  a  little  while,"  she  said  aloud, 
and  nodded  in  satisfaction.  "  Less  danger  will  come  to  both 
because  I  held  Hagane  back.  How  could  he  know  it  was  Pierre  ? 
How  could  he  think  so  quickly  to  go  to  the  French  Legation  ? 
Will  Pierre  be  really  there  ?  Oh,  he  is  a  terrible  man,  that 
great  Hagane !  Even  the  voices  of  the  air  speak  to  him !  He 
called  me  'carrion,'  rather  would  he  fondle  a  grave-worm 
than  little  Yuki !  Ah,  his  eyes  said  not  so  this  morning,  no, 
not  this  morning,  my  great  Lord  Hagane." 

She  moved  her  hands  restlessly  in  their  bonds.  "Poor 
little  hands,"  she  murmured.  "  He  tried  to  bind  you.  Shall  I 


346  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

set  you  free  ?"  She  put  her  ear  down  against  them.  "Oh,  yes, 
indeed  I  can  release  you,"  she  smiled  as  if  the  hands  had  an- 
swered. "The  obi-dome  is  soft  and  insecurely  tied.  Even  a 
great  prince  like  Hagane  cannot  tie  a  knot  that  a  woman's 
fingers  cannot  unfasten  !  "  With  a  few  deft  turns  of  the  wrist 
she  loosed  the  cord,  letting  it  slip  to  the  floor. 

For  an  instant  she  stared  at  the  bright  red  marks  on  her 
wrists,  then  put  both  hands  upward  to  smooth  the  loops  of  her 
hair.  She  seemed  a  little  surprised  to  encounter  such  disarray, 
and  began  thoughtfully  to  coil  up,  foreign  fashion,  the  blue- 
black  hair  which  fell  in  streams  along  her  shoulders.  With  a 
little  shiver  she  drew  her  kimono  together  at  the  throat.  "  Why 
did  Pierre  wake  so  soon  ?  "  she  whimpered.  "  He  came  and 
took  something  from  Hagane.  He  did  not  understand  his 
own  crime,  being  so  very  ill.  No,  he  could  not  have  willingly 
slain  Yuki,  had  he  understood.  Hagane  said  that  my  country, 
my  Emperor,  may  be  harmed  through  Pierre.  I  must  get  the 
paper  back  at  once,  at  once !  Why  am  I  waiting  ?  Oh,  I  must 
go  swiftly,  as  they  went !  " 

With  spasmodic  motions  she  lifted  her  trembling  body 
upward.  The  gorgeous  obi,  stiff  with  silver  pine-boughs  and 
robbed  now  of  the  indispensable  obi-dome,  slipped  down 
about  her  in  coils,  as  of  a  huge  wooden  shaving.  She  grasped 
instinctively  at  the  folds.  Her  eyes  continued  to  search 
restlessly  the  corners  of  space. 

"  Oh,  Pierre,  naughty,  naughty  Pierre  !  "  she  went  on  whis- 
pering. "You  promised  to  lie  still.  You  gave  your  word 
to  Yuki  when  she  helped  you.  Now  they  may  both  need  to 
die,  —  poor  Pierre  and  little  Yuki,  too.  They  may  die  with 
the  cherry-blossoms  all  dressed  up  for  them  to  see  !  If  only 
my  poor  head  would  stop  moving,  and  I  could  think  what  I 
must  do !  " 

She  put  one  icy  hand  against  her  temple.  With  the  other 
she  tried  to  keep  the  falling  robes  from  catching  on  her  feet. 
Tottering  and  stumbling,  she  reached  the  hall-way.  A 
frightened  servant-woman  knelt  near  the  door.  "Mistress, 
Mistress,  in  Amida's  name,  tell  me  what  terrible  thing  is 
here ! " 

Yuki  half  closed  her  lids  and  peered  forward,  trying  to 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       347 

recognize  the  speaker.  "  Oh,  Ine,  is  that  you  ?  Yes,  a  terri- 
ble thing,  two  terrible  things !  My  hair  has  fallen  and  my 
obi  slips  away.  Arrange  me  quickly,  Ine,  quickly,  and  call 
a  swift  kuruma  like  Prince  Hagaue's.  I  must  go  somewhere 
now." 

"  Kashikomarimasu  "  (I  hear  and  will  obey),  faltered  the 
woman,  but  instead  of  advancing,  crouched  backward.  She 
was  afraid  of  the  strange  light  in  her  mistress's  eyes. 

"  Quick,  I  say !  Did  you  not  hear  me  ? "  cried  Yuki, 
angrily,  and  clapped  both  hands  together  with  a  sharp  sound. 
The  obi  fell,  surrounding  her  in  one  great  shimmering  wheel. 
The  terror  in  Ine's  face  brought  the  young  wife  to  her  senses. 
"  It  really  is  nothing,  Ine,"  she  said,  trying  hard  to  smile. 
"  I  had  a  little  fall  there  in  the  drawing-room,  and  am  dazed. 
Do  not  concern  yourself  or  speak  to  the  other  servants.  Go 
now  at  once  and  bring  my  long  black  adzuma-coat,  another 
obi-dome  and  some  foreign  hair-pins.  I  have  not  the  time  to 
be  entirely  redressed.  I  will  await  your  coming  here." 

Yuki  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  The  servant  sped 
upward.  From  the  far  end  of  the  hall  came  Tora.  The 
prearranged  impassivity  of  his  face  was  noticeable  even  to 
one  in  Yuki's  excited  state.  "  Well,  Tora ! "  she  said 
haughtily. 

"  Did  you  not  wish  me,  your  Ladyship  ?  "  asked  the  man, 
bowing  in  exaggerated  deference.  Yuki  felt  a  hot  wave 
pass  along  her  neck  and  vanish  against  the  pallor  of  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  did  not,"  she  answered  steadily.  "  But  since  you  are 
here,  I  wish  you  to  order  my  kuruma  with  two  swift 
runners." 

"  Yes,  your  Ladyship."     He  did  not  move. 

"  You  heard  my  order  ?  " 

"  Your  Highness,"  said  the  man,  turning  pale  as  he  spoke, 
"  I  am  only  a  servant,  but  I  once  lost  by  death  a  daughter  of 
your  age.  There  is  something  I  would  like  to  say." 

Yuki  bit  her  lip ;  a  struggle  went  on  within  her.  The  dip 
of  the  scales  came  through  Ine,  who  now  hurried  down  the 
stairs. 

"  When  I  return,  Tora,"  said  the  young  princess ;  "  I  am 


348  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

sure  you  mean  to  be  kind  and  not  presuming.     I  will  speak  to 
you  when  I  return." 

Tora  shook  his  head  as  he  turned  away.  As  Yuki's 
kuruma  rattled  from  the  gate,  he  went  back  musingly  alone 
toward  the  Cha  no  yu  roo,ms. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-SIX 

MRS.  TODD  and  her  daughter,  in  driving  away  from  the 
Hagaues'  official  home,  had  given  the  order,  "Suruga  Dai." 
To  be  truthful  and  more  accurate,  this  euphonious,  topograph- 
ical title,  spoken  in  Japanese  with  a  delicious  softening  of 
continental  "u's,"  and  blurred  Italian  "g's,"  was,  under  Mrs. 
Todd's  crisp  American  tongue,  transformed  to  the  alert  and 
inharmonious  "  Sew-roo-gar  Da-eye."  The  driver,  fortunately 
inured  to  these  attacks  upon  national  enunciation,  drove  as 
straight  to  the  desired  spot  as  if  Yuki  herself  had  named  it. 

Suruga  Dai,  so  called  because  from  its  elevation  can  be  seen 
the  distant  plain  of  Suruga  with  its  glittering  single  treasure, 
Fujiyama,  is  a  curious  little  welt  of  land,  rising  in  a  small 
loaf  through  the  very  heart  of  modern  Tokio.  Official  resi- 
dences climb  the  slopes,  foreign  homes  perch  at  the  top,  Jap- 
anese villas  and  gardens  crown  it.  A  fashionable  hospital, 
endowed  by  the  Empress,  has  risen  there  within  a  decade;  but, 
on  Suruga  Dai,  the  dominating  presence  is  a  huge  Greek 
Church,  built  and  utilized  for  her  own  purposes,  by  Russia. 
From  far  down  the  bay  of  Yedo,  from  car  windows  on  the 
busy,  curved  track  that  leads  from  Yokohama,  this  edifice 
stands  as  a  sort  of  saturnine  beacon.  Staring,  treeless,  defi- 
ant, with  square  white  walls  that  hurt  the  eyes  with  their 
blank  brilliancy,  and  a  squat  blue-tiled  roof  fashioned  to  a 
Byzantine  dome,  it  rises  above  the  verdure-hidden  eaves  of 
the  Imperial  palace,  checks  the  vista  to  many  a  narrow  street, 
and  hangs,  a  menace  and  a  humiliation,  above  the  wide  plain  of 
alien  interests.  Boatmen  on  the  Sumida  River,  poling  down 
rice,  and  wood,  and  charcoal  from  distant  villages,  glance  up 
toward  it  with  a  scowl  and  a  prayer.  If  they  were  Roman- 
ists they  would  cross  themselves  and  ask  protection  of  the 
Virgin.  Being  heathen,  they  merely  invoke  the  great  living 


350  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

national  spirit  of  their  race,  bow  reverent  heads  to  the  thought 
of  their  Emperor,  and  stop  at  the  next  police-station  to  register 
their  names  as  volunteers  for  the  army.  Russia  has  claimed 
to  believe  that  the  commanding  position  of  this  church  is  indic- 
ative of  future  rulership.  They  have  boasted  openly,  in  the 
Far  East,  of  this  coming  thraldom.  What  the  Japanese  will 
do  with  the  inimical  temple  and  its  priesthood  in  case  of  their 
ultimate  victory  over  Russia  is  an  interesting  problem.  With 
their  tolerance  for  all  religious  belief,  their  innate  delicacy 
and  dignity,  the  foreigners  who  best  understand  them  would 
certainly  predict  an  unchanged  policy  of  forbearance. 

Mrs.  Todd  did  not  take  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  Tokio 
street  scenes.  Her  mind  generally  streamed  back  like  vapor 
to  the  exalted  personage  she  had  recently  left,  or  blew  on 
before  to  an  anticipated  welcome.  This  was  the  case  to-day. 
Rudely  torn  from  her  Prince,  she  was  thinking  of  the  little 

Countess  K ,  now  in  the  Suruga  Hospital  after  an  attack  of 

appendicitis,  to  whom  she  had  promised  a  visit.  Count  K , 

one  of  the  rising  statesmen  of  the  country,  was  a  particular 
friend  of  Dodge ;  Minister  Todd  also  believed  great  things  of 
his  future.  Gwendolen,  beside  her  mother  in  the  open  car- 
riage, answered  intelligently,  but  with  obvious  lack  of  interest, 
the  commonplace  remarks  addressed  to  her.  A  foretaste,  a 
prescience  of  tragedy,  lurked  like  a  fog  in  the  air.  Companion- 
ing Yuki's  dilemma  came  her  own,  —  recognized  even  in  this 
moment  of  irritation  as  incomparably  less  important,  though 
still  maddening  with  the  sting  of  nettles,  —  Dodge's  foolish 
devotion  to  Carmen,  his  continued  coolness  to  herself.  She 
was  not  old  yet,  or  experienced  enough,  to  put  herself  in 
another's  place.  Dodge  was  trying  to  hurt  and  humiliate  her. 
Worse  still,  he  was  succeeding.  She  needed  to  ponder  no 
further.  One  does  not  write  a  geologic  treatise  on  the  pebble 
in  one's  shoe.  Dodge  wished  to  injure  her.  It  was  cow- 
ardly, unmanly.  Dodge  prided  himself  on  his  Southern 
blood.  Gwendolen,  with  a  sneer,  thought  him  —  or  tried  to 
believe  she  thought  him  —  a  degenerate  specimen  of  chivalry. 
If  at  last  he  should  attempt  another  overture  to  her  friend- 
ship, she  would  know  well  how  to  scorn  him ! 

A  great  jerk  of  the  wheels,  and  renewed  vociferation  from 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       351 

the  coachman,  started  the  horses  in  a  nervous  scamper  up  the 
slope.  Gwendolen's  head  went  back,  the  hatpins  tugged  at 
her  yellow  hair.  She  clutched  at  the  velvet  brim  of  her  hat, 
and  at  the  same  moment  her  lifted  eyes  fell  on  the  white 
walls  and  sagging  dome  of  the  Greek  Church.  The  scowl  she 
gave  it  might  have  been  borrowed  from  a  rice-seller  on  his 
barge.  "  Detestable  barbarians  ! "  she  muttered.  "  If  they 
ever  should  dominate  this  land  ! " 

"Gwendolen,"  said  her  mother,  also  jerked  and  unnerved 
by  the  speed,  "you  are  far  too  exaggerated  in  your  expres- 
sion of  hatred  to  Russia.  Even  Cy  says  so.  You  are  going  to 
get  the  Legation  into  trouble  yet ! " 

Gwendolen  threw  herself  back  into  a  corner  and  sulked  — 
if  a  thing  the  color  of  light  and  flowers  can  be  said  to  sulk. 
She  went  at  least  into  partial  eclipse,  and  retained  her  pe- 
numbric  mood  to  the  hospital  and  within  it.  The  pleasure 
of  receiving  guests  seemed,  in  the  case  of  this  little  invalid 
countess,  to  be  entirely  cancelled  by  her  distress  at  remaining 
rudely  on  her  back,  without  a  single  bow.  Mrs.  Todd  tried  to 
put  her  at  her  ease,  speaking  very  loudly,  as  she  often  did  in 
talking  to  the  Japanese,  as  if  their  ignorance  of  civilized  lan- 
guages lurked  in  the  ears  as  well  as  the  tongue.  Everything 
in  the  room  was  foreign,  —  the  white  and  brass  bed,  tables, 
chairs,  spoons  and  medicine  bottles,  vases,  even  the  lithograph 
framed  portraits  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress  hanging  on  the 
opposite  wall.  The  nurses  wore  gingham  dresses,  aprons,  and 
white  caps.  The  cloven  hoof  showed  literally  (and  with 
opprobrious  connotation  deleted)  in  the  thick-soled  white, 
digitated  socks  on  which  they  sped  with  the  lightness  and 
swiftness  of  a  breeze  in  a  meadow.  Relatives  of  the  countess 
came  in  presently,  greeting  and  thanking  the  illustrious  visitors 
in  her  behalf.  In  spite  of  efforts  to  be  at  ease,  the  whole 
visit  crackled  and  creaked  with  starched  formality.  Gwendo- 
len was  glad  when  her  mother  rose  to  go. 

In  the  short  drive  home  they  passed  directly  by  the  gate 
of  the  French  Legation,  and  skirted  the  brick  and  plaster 
Avail  which  hides  a  fair  garden.  "  It  is  a  shame  for  a  bachelor 
to  keep  this  lovely  place  to  himself,"  observed  Mrs.  Todd, 
pensively. 


352  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"  It  would  be  a  much  worse  shame  for  him  to  try  to  marry 
any  decent  woman,"  said  the  girl,  darkly. 

"  Gwendolen !  Gwendolen !  What  on  earth  has  come  to 
you  lately  ?  You  are  not  like  yourself,  these  days !  You 
seem  to  hate  the  French  as  much  as  the  Russians.  Neither 
nation  is  troubling  you,  just  now,  nor  Yuki  either ! "  The 
parent  put  up  her  lorgnette  to  study  her  daughter's  fair, 
dissatisfied  face. 

Gwendolen  went  back  to  her  corner  and  the  sulks. 

At  the  American  Legation  Mrs.  Stunt  awaited  them.  Mrs. 
Todd  went  with  more  than  usual  willingness  to  her  friend. 
Gwendolen  had  not  been  an  inspiring  companion.  The  friend- 
ship between  the  two  elder  ladies,  threatened  as  we  have 
seen  by  certain  events  at  Yuki's  first  reception,  had  received 
some  skilful  soldering,  and,  being  new-painted  by  Mrs.  Stunt's 
voluminous  explanations,  had  a  fictitious  lustre.  Mrs.  Todd 
was  neither  far-seeing  nor  revengeful,  yet,  quite  often  now 
she  passed  a  thoughtful  finger  across  the  soldered  spot. 

Gwendolen  went  alone  to  a  smaller  reception-room.  She 
wished  to  know  above  all  things  whether  her  father  was  now 
with  Prince  Hagane.  There  was  but  a  single  source  of  infor- 
mation, —  Mr.  Dodge.  At  first  she  thought  of  going  to  him  in 
person.  What  was  that  "  snip,"  or  his  opinions,  compared  with 
Yuki's  danger?  Her  courage  faltered,  and  she  compromised 
with  it  by  a  short  note  sent  into  the  office  by  a  servant. 

"  Mr.  T.  Caraway  Dodge. 

"  My  DEAR  MR.  DODGE,  —  Kindly  inform  me  whether  my  father, 
Mr.  Todd,  is  in  the  office.  If  not,  where  he  has  gone,  and  at  what 
hour  he  is  expected  back. 

"  Very  truly, 

"GWENDOLEN  DE  LANCY  TODD." 

In  a  very  few  moments  she  flushed,  and  bit  her  lip  over  the 
following  reply : 

"Miss  Gwendolen  de  Lancy  Todd. 

"MY  DEAR  Miss  TODD,  —  Your  father,  Mr.  Todd,  is  not  in  this  office. 
I  am  not  at  liberty  to  communicate  the  name  of  the  place  to  which  he 
has  gone.  He  expects  to  return  about  2.30  p.  M. 

"  Very  truly, 

"  T.  CARAWAY  DODGE." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       353 

"  Pshaw !  I  might  have  known  it !  "  said  Gwendolen,  under 
her  breath,  as  she  tore  the  note  to  small  pieces.  She  looked 
at  her  watch.  "  Just  one,  and  he  can't  get  here  for  an  hour 
and  a  half.  What  shall  I  do  until  he  comes  ? "  As  if  in 
answer,  the  luncheon-bell  rang.  She  moved  toward  the  big 
dining-room,  dreading  to  see  Mrs.  Stunt.  Yes,  she  was  there, 
wriggling,  smiling,  opening  her  innocent  blue  eyes,  as  usual. 
Gwendolen's  greeting  was  civil,  and  no  more.  She  sat  through 
the  meal  in  silence,  and  ate  practically  nothing.  Mrs.  Stunt 
tried  a  few  tactful  remarks  about  the  girl's  "  being  in  love," 
as  a  reason  for  the  lack  of  appetite.  After  the  unquiet  meal, 
Gwendolen  saw,  with  new  dismay,  that  the  ladies  were  to  take 
possession  of  the  main  drawing-room.  This  deprived  her  of 
the  solace  of  her  piano.  She  wandered  aimlessly  about  the 
big  rooms,  starting  a  letter  to  an  American  friend,  and  desist- 
ing, after  the  first  page,  pulling  out  bureau  drawers,  and 
forgetting  why  she  had  opened  them,  doing,  in  fact,  all  those 
vague,  self-irritating  things  that  indicate  a  perturbed  and 
joyless  mind. 

She  longed  for  intelligent  human  companionship,  —  for  her 
father.  When  dad  should  come,  she  told  herself,  she  would 
lose  this  restless  heart.  She  longed  for  him  and  his  counsel 
with  a  physical  hunger.  Her  mind  veered  again  and  again 
to  Dodge,  only  to  be  whirled  off  fiercely.  Mrs.  Todd  as  a 
confidante  was  impossible,  even  had  the  wily  Stunt  not  claimed 
her.  Secure  in  the  conviction  of  a  commonplace  mind,  good 
Mrs.  Todd  would  have  rushed  at  once  to  the  Hagane  residence, 
demanded  instant  audience  of  Hagane,  and  failing  in  that  have 
hastened  to  the  Cha  no  yu  rooms  to  rescue  her  ailing  protege. 
No,  Mrs.  Todd,  with  all  her  kind  heart,  could  not  be  trusted ! 

The  moments  passed  somehow.  Gwendolen  saw,  through 
an  upper  window,  her  father's  approach.  He  came  in  a 
hired  street  kuruma.  Even  at  this  distance  she  could  see 
that  the  strain  was  gone  from  his  face,  if  not  the  excitement. 
He  caught  a  glimpse  of  her,  smiled,  and  waved  to  her.  Before 
the  girl  could  reach  him,  he  had  entered  the  office  and  con- 
fronted Dodge.  Now  she  was  brave.  With  dad  to  guard  her, 
she  could  brave  a  hundred  such  as  Dodge.  She  burst  in  upon 
them,  giving  the  coolest  of  nods  to  the  secretary,  and  pouring, 

23 


354  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

without  warning,  a  series  of  petitions  and  exclamations  upon 
her  wondering  father.  At  last  he  made  out  that  she  wished 
to  see  him  alone.  Dodge  had  been  quicker.  Already  the 
inner  door  of  the  office  closed  behind  him.  Todd  turned  from 
the  blank  panel  to  his  daughter.  The  teasing  twitch  was  on 
his  thin  lip,  the  sparkle  in  his  eye  !  "  No,  no,  I  can't  stand 
it  just  now,  —  1  'm  worried,  oh,  so  horribly  worried,  and  you 
must  help  me,  dad,  as  you  always  do.  Am  I  not  your  only 
little  girl  ?  " 

"You  rascal,"  said  Todd,  seating  himself,  and  drawing  her 
down. 

"  Anything  but  a  rascal  to-day,  dad.  This  trouble  is  real. 
Yuki  may  be  in  danger,  —  I  can't  help  her.  I  have  thought 
and  thought  and  thought,  until  my  brain  goes  round  like  flying 
ants  in  the  sun.  I  can't  help.  I  am  an  impotent,  miserable, 
feminine  girl.  What  did  you  see  at  Yuki's  house  ?  " 

"Why,  I  saw  only  what  I  went  to  see,"  answered  her 
father.  He  gazed  with  some  concern  on  the  chatterer,  as  if 
indeed  she  were  light-headed. 

"  The  meeting  is  over  safely,  then,  and  nothing  happened  ?  " 

"The  meeting  is  over!  How  did  you  know  of  it?  The 
meeting  is  over  and  everything  happened.  History  may  be 
changed  because  of  it !  " 

"  Then  Pierre  did  not  wake  up  ?  Don't  think  me  crazy, 
dad !  I  can  see  that  you  do.  All  that  time,  while  you 
statesmen  were  closeted  with  Hagane,  Pierre  Le  Beau  lay 
asleep  a  little  way  off,  in  the  garden.  Now  perhaps  you  will 
see  what  has  worried  me !  "  She  gave  a  triumphant  look. 

"Good  Lord!"  said  he.  Then  again,  on  a  higher  note, 
"  Good  Lord!  "  He  put  her  from  him,  rose,  and  began  walk- 
ing the  narrow  room.  Gwendolen  nodded  in  satisfaction.  At 
last  he  was  stirred  as  deeply  as  she  could  wish. 

"Yuki  isn't  to  blame.  He  wandered  to  that  garden  in 
delirium.  He  must  have  gone  there  first  thing,  for  she 
does  n't  know  how  long  he  had  been  in  hiding.  When  she 
discovered  him,  the  gates  were  already  barred,  and  Hagane 
had  given  her  instructions.  His  fever  was  awful.  She  gave 
him  medicine  for  it,  and  then  a  heavy  fever  mixture,  and  put 
him  to  sleep  in  the  Cha  no  yu  rooms  !  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       355 

"  Hagane  being  in  ignorance  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  said  she  was  going  to  try  her  best  to  tell  him 
before  the  meeting,  though  he  had  commanded  her  not  to  dis- 
tract his  thoughts.  She  was  going  to  try  anyhow,  but  if  she 
failed,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  trust  the  good  Lord  to 
keep  him  asleep  until  after  the  meeting,  and  then  to  tell  her 
husband  immediately." 

Todd  gave  a  deep  breath  as  of  relief.  He  pushed  the  hair 
back  from  his  forehead.  "  God  !  It  was  a  risk.  She  is  too 
young  to  face  such  tragic  responsibilities  !  Poor  child  !  poor 
child  !  But  I  guess  it 's  all  right  now  !  "  Gwendolen  heard 
him  mutter. 

She  caught  his  arm.  "  You  think  she  is  safe  ?  You  left 
husband  and  wife  together  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  looked  at  her  as  though  she  were  an  angel 
just  come  down.  I  even  dared  to  tease  him  a  little.  I  told 
him  he  looked  young  and  handsome !  The  old  War  God 
almost  blushed." 

Suddenly  the  smile  on  his  face  turned  gray.  He  stood  per- 
fectly still,  his  long  arms  dangled.  Life  and  youth  ebbed 
from  him. 

"  Father !  Father !  "  cried  the  girl,  in  agony.  "  What  is  it  ? 
A  terrible  thought  has  come  to  you  !  Don't  hold  it  back.  I 
must  hear.  I  will  go  mad!  " 

Todd  seated  himself,  and  touched  his  handkerchief  to  his 
lips.  "  I  think  I  had  better  not  speak  it,  daughter." 

"  Tell  me,  tell  me  !  "  said  Gwendolen,  fiercely.  "  Look  at  me, 
—  look  into  my  eyes,  father.  I  have  your  own  strong  spirit !  " 

"  As  I  was  coming  home,"  began  Mr.  Todd,  obediently, 
through  whitening  lips,  "  I  walked  the  first  part  of  the  way, 
you  know,  to  cool  my  excitement.  The  meeting  had  been 
terrific  in  importance,  —  terrific  — "  he  paused. 

Gwendolen  was  now  on  her  knees,  reaping  every  look,  every 
word,  with  her  bright  eyes.  "Yes,  yes;  Yuki  may  be  in  danger." 

"A  group  of  fellows  were  standing  in  front  of  the  British 
Legation,  —  Potter,  Wyndham,  and  some  others.  They  stopped 
me,  and  were  chaffing  and  joking  as  those  English  try  to  do, 
when  a  rickshaw  with  three  runners  whizzed  by  like  a  Ken- 
tucky handicap,  and  there  was  Hagaiie  sitting  bolt  upright, 


356  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

with  a  face  like  an  old  No  mask.  '  That 's  deuced  odd,'  says 
Wyndham;  'not  ten  minutes  ago  a  yellow-headed  foreigner 
without  a  hat  went  by  at  the  same  pace.  Looks  as  if  Hagane 
were  on  the  scent.' " 

"Oh,  oh;  did  he  say  that  the  first  was  —  Pierre  ?  " 

"No,  he  did  n't  say  it ;  he  did  n't  need  to.  They  all  looked 
it." 

For  one  instant  Gwendolen  cowered  against  her  father's 
knees.  Then  she  rose,  straight,  tall,  self-possessed,  and  held 
a  hand  down  to  her  father.  "Come,  dad,"  she  said,  almost 
with  a  smile,  "  we  have  no  time  to  lose." 

He  sprang  up,  facing  her.  The  faces  glowed  with  the  same 
purpose,  a  white  fire  reflected  from  surfaces  of  ivory.  Both 
pairs  of  eyes  burned  to  black  jet.  "Come,  then,"  he  said 
simply.  He  took  his  hat  in  passing.  She  was  bareheaded. 
A  sealskin  cap  was  lying  on  Dodge's  desk.  She  caught  it  up, 
as  her  father  had  done  his  hat.  Hand  in  hand  they  hurried 
out,  Dodge,  in  wonder,  watching  them.  They  went  down  the 
Legation  hill  and  there  summoned  kuruma,  with  two  runners 
apiece,  promising  a  good  reward  for  haste.  Only  once  the 
girl  spoke.  "  Oh,  dad,  my  heart  weighs  me  to  the  earth  with 
its  whispers." 

At  the  Hagane  home  they  were  told  that  every  one  was  out. 
Gwendolen's  quick  eye  saw  that  the  servants  were  frightened, 
demoralized.  She  insisted  on  having  English  speech  with 
Tora.  He  came  sulkily,  and  at  first  refused  to  understand 
her  words.  This  man's  need  for  self-control  gave  Gwendolen 
her  most  unbearable  twinge  of  apprehension.  "  Tora !  "  she 
cried  aloud,  "I  love  your  mistress.  I  am  good  friend  of 
Prince  Hagane.  We  wish  to  do  only  good  things.  Don't  you 
understand  ?  I  love  —  good  —  we  will  do  good,  not  harm. 
Tell  us  where  she  went." 

Tora  studied  the  two  faces  intently.  "Both  Master  and 
the  Princess  Yuki-ko  went  ve'y  quick,  French  Legation.  Mooch 
troubles,  I  think."  He  turned  away,  as  if  wishing  to  say  no 
more. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  Americans  met  again.  "  That  is  a  place 
where  I  cannot  take  you,  unannounced,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.Todd. 

"  It  is  a  place,  too,  where  I  think  I  could  do  little  good. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       357 

But  she  is  unharmed ;  that  is  certain.  Konsard  cannot  afford 
to  have  violence  there." 

"  Don't  fancy  things  more  terrible  than  they  are,"  said  Todd. 
"  I  myself  am  full  of  hope.  If  I  can  get  in  at  all,  I  can  help 
explain.  In  the  meantime,  be  very  cautious,  and  go  home 
quietly." 

"  Yes,  go  home  quietly  to  wait !  Oh,  I  knew  that  was  com- 
ing. To  wait,  to  be  stretched  out  flat  on  the  rack  of  hours, 
with  every  little  red-hot  minute  pinching  me.  But  I  will  go. 
I  trust  you,  dad,  to  do  the  best.  I  will  wait  patiently,  as 
meekly  as  Yuki  herself  could  wait.  That  is  all  I  don't  like 
about  Yuki,  — her  meekness.  Oh,  my  poor  darling,  what  will 
those  vile  men  do  to  you  ? " 

Again  at  the  Legation  gate  she  dismissed  her  two  coolies, 
paying  them  an  incredible  sum  for  immunity  from  bartering, 
and  walked  in,  along  the  gravelled  driveway,  on  foot.  Dodge, 
who  had  never  left  the  neighborhood  of  his  office  window,  felt 
a  renewed  thrill  of  rapture  at  the  sight  of  his  cap,  set  like  a 
brown,  inverted  bird's-nest,  on  her  bright  curls.  It  would  be  a 
different  cap.  No  one  should  wear  it  after  this  consecration. 
He  watched  the  slight  figure  with  yearning  tenderness.  Some- 
thing in  her  walk,  a  sort  of  suppressed  excitement  in  her 
whole  person,  showed  to  him.  The  unusual  hung  about  her. 
Deliberately  he  came  out  from  his  den  to  follow.  She  gave 
no  backward  glances. 

Across  the  front  of  the  Legation  she  hurried,  taking  a  path 
that  led  into  the  garden  and  wide  lawn  at  the  right.  At  its 
rim  she  poised,  uncertain ;  then,  as  if  coming  to  a  swift  deci- 
sion, took  a  diagonal  course  across  the  turf.  Exactly  in  the 
centre  of  the  wide,  green  space  grew  a  clump  of  gigantic 
mushrooms  with  white  tops  and  thick  blue  bodies.  As  she 
ueared  them  the  mushrooms  began  to  bob  and  nod  in  an  agi- 
tated fashion,  while  funny  little  hissing  breaths  came  from 
the  midst.  They  were  the  professional  lawn-weeders,  — little 
old  women  with  round  faces  and  high  cheekbones,  each  armed 
with  a  pygmy  sickle.  They  worked  in  a  tiny  grazing  squad, 
devouring,  root  and  all,  each  intruding  tuft  of  clover,  dande- 
lion, pilewort,  and  even  the  spring  messenger,  tsukushimbo, 
beloved  of  Japanese  children. 


358  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"  Kon-nichiwa,"  cried  the  girl,  in  her  high,  sweet  voice. 

"  Kon-nichiwa  (good  day),  o  jo  san,"  responded  the  little 
company,  rising,  as  corks  on  a  single  wave,  and  bobbing  down 
again  as  one. 

Gwendolen,  interested  in  spite  of  her  anxieties,  stood  still 
to  watch  them.  Dodge,  unperceived,  leaned  against  a  kiri  tree 
at  the  edge  of  the  lawn,  with  eyes  only  for  her. 

Their  blue  backs  with  a  white  ideograph  bore  the  unanimity 
of  a  pack  of  cards.  "I  feel  just  like  Alice  in  Wonderland," 
thought  the  girl.  "  Oh,  I  know  I  am  Alice.  They  have  been 
painting  all  the  dandelions  white.  Was  this  done  by  order  of 
the  duchess  ?  "  she  asked  aloud,  and  touched  a  snowy  flower 
with  her  foot. 

The  little  dame  nearest  sent  up  a  shy,  sparkling  glance, 
"Hek!  hai !  Udzukushii  tampopo  gozaimasu  !  "  (Ha,  yes,  un- 
usually fine  dandelion  honorably  is  !)  She  flushed  crimson, 
and  went  feverishly  to  work  again  in  the  shadow  of  the  tall 
golden  one. 

Gwendolen  watched  them  for  a  few  moments  longer.  She 
seemed  again  to  be  undecided,  for  she  looked  first  toward  the 
house,  then  outward,  to  the  far  end  of  the  garden,  where  a 
clump  of  young  sugi  trees  made  a  fragrant,  shadowy  retreat. 
"  That  awful  Mrs.  Stunt  must  be  gone  by  this.  I  believe  I 
will  go  in  and  let  Chopin  make  me  more  wretched  still,"  she 
was  thinking.  She  looked  more  wistfully  toward  the  far  cor- 
ner. "No,  I  '11  just  go  over  there  and  have  out  one  big,  good 
cry,  with  no  one  to  bother  me.  If  I  cry  in  the  house,  mother 
will  bring  me  aromatic  spirits  of  ammonia."  Acting  on  the 
latter  impulse,  she  started,  running  now  toward  the  trees. 

"  Ara !  it  runs  well !  "  whispered  one  of  the  grass-cutters  to 
a  neighbor.  "  These  foreigners  all  have  big,  strong  legs." 

"  I  never  can  tell  the  foreign  men  from  the  foreign  women," 
remarked  another. 

"  Z>o-mo !  you  simpleton  ! "  retorted  the  first.  She  was 
the  one  to  whom  Gwendolen  had  spoken  directly,  and  though 
covered  with  confusion  at  the  moment,  now  vaunted  herself 
upon  the  incident,  and  prepared  herself  to  take  precedence  in 
all  comments  concerning  the  strange  doings  of  "I-i-jin." 
"  Do-mo  I  it  is  easy  to  observe.  The  men  have  upper  bodies 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       359 

square,  like  a  box,  and  this  box  is  tightly  covered  with  woollen 
cloth.  From  the  lower  corners  of  the  square  come  two  stiff 
legs,  like  posts.  Now  the  women  show  no  legs  at  all,  but  the 
middle  of  the  body  is  shrunken  very  small,  like  a  sake  gourd 
about  which  a  string  has  been  tied  when  it  is  green.  Poor 
things,  it  must  surely  hurt  them  to  be  so  bound.  It  is  a  prac- 
tice more  strange  than  that  of  encasing  feet,  used  by  Chinese 
women." 

"They  all  look  alike  to  me,  I  say,"  repeated  the  first,  un- 
impressed by  this  erudition.  Perhaps  the  boastful  breath  of 
the  speaker  awoke  a  small  coal  of  obstinacy.  "The  children 
are  small  in  size,  so  I  know  them  to  be  children ;  but  all  faces 
are  alike,  as  the  faces  of  cows,  pigs,  and  horses  are  alike,  and 
all  are  hideous  !  " 

"That  one,  now,  was  not  so  frightful  of  aspect,"  ventured 
a  kindly  third,  and  pointed  her  sickle  to  the  spot  where 
Gwendolen,  having  climbed  a  low  hillock,  just  disappeared 
beyond. 

"That  one  would  have  been  almost  good  to  look  at,  but  for 
its  nose ! " 

"  The  noses  of  all  are  like  these  sickles,"  said  the  dogmatic 
first. 

"  Buddha  teaches  us  to  be  content  with  what  cannot  be 
changed.  Perhaps  to  the  foreigners  themselves  the  sharp 
noses  are  even  beautiful ! "  said  the  gentler  critic. 

A  chorus  of  hisses  and  low  laughs  greeted  this  unheard-of 
generosity.  The  little  speaker  flushed  under  the  shower  of 
raillery,  but  did  not  abandon  her  humane  position.  Something 
in  the  American  girl's  face  had  flashed  excitement,  a  new  in- 
terest, a  feeling  almost  like  recognition,  into  her  narrow  vista. 
She  hoped  she  would  be  called  to  work  often  in  this  huge 
garden,  where  the  bright-haired  o  jo  san  might  wander. 

Upon  the  hillock  which  rose  in  front  of  the  little  sugi 
grove,  corners  of  rough  stone  stuck  out,  and  shrubs  had  been 
planted,  chiefly  of  azalea.  Mingled  with  the  many-colored 
blossoms,  there  curved  long  wands  of  yama-buki,  that  most 
golden  flower,  the  gorse  of  the  Far  East.  For  once  Gwendolen 
passed  these  waves  of  beauty  by.  Down  there,  over  among 
the  tree-trunks  where  the  ground  was  winter-strewn  with 


860  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

fragrant  brown  sbreds  of  leaves,  one  could  sit  and  cry  to  one's 
heart's  content.  Deliberately  she  held  back  the  fast-rising 
sobs  until  the  haven  was  gained,  and  then,  hurling  herself  to 
earth,  gave  vent  to  her  grief  and  prophetic  fears.  "  Oh,  my 
poor  little  Yuki !  What  are  those  hard  men  saying  to  you 
now?  What  will  they  do  if  they  think  you  wrong?  And 
I  can't  help  you !  I  can  do  nothing  !  Oh,  I  wish  we  had  n't 
come  to  this  place  !  Will  any  of  us  ever  be  happy  again?  I 
have  my  own  grief,  but  I  hide  it,  ashamed,  before  your  peril ! 
Oh,  my  little  sister,  my  only  little  sister !  If  I  could  only 
catch  you  up  like  a  drifting  petal,  and  hide  you  in  my  heart, 
and  run  away  with  you  back  to  our  other  home,  back  to  school- 
days, and  happiness  !  But  we  '11  never  be  young  again,  we  '11 
never  be  happy.  Oh  —  oh  —  oh,  my  heart  will  break  ! " 

The  azaleas  stared  down  in  stately  dignity ;  the  yama-buki 
tossed  dissent.  On  a  sugi  limb  quite  near,  a  row  of  sparrows 
placed  themselves,  slowly  puffing  out  their  feathers  in  unison, 
like  so  many  buns  in  a  warm  oven.  They  cocked  their  heads 
suspiciously  toward  the  prostrate  girl,  and  gossiped  about  her, 
saying  she  had  stolen  her  hair  from  the  sun. 

Dodge,  half  ashamed  of  himself,  but  led  on  by  something 
stronger  than  conventionality,  passed  the  nodding  group  of 
weeders,  answered  their  salutation  in  an  absent-minded  fash- 
ion, and  continued  a  slow  but  unswerving  route  toward  the 
sugi  trees.  At  the  hillock  he  paused.  A  curious  sound  on 
the  other  side  drew  him  upward.  His  brown  head  pushed 
a  way  through  the  yama-buki  limbs.  Gwendolen  was  crying. 
He  stared,  not  half  believing  his  senses.  Gwendolen,  the 
gay,  insouciant,  defiant,  enchanting  Gwendolen,  weep  like  this  1 
Sooner  should  the  stars  send  down  beams  of  soot ! 

A  big  something  that  partook  of  the  physical  nature  of  a 
hedgehog  burrowed  upward  in  his  throat.  Something  sweet 
and  unaccustomed  stung  his  lids. 

"  Oh,  my  heart  will  break ! "  sobbed  the  girl  once  more. 
"  There  's  nobody  to  help  me  !  There 's  nobody  to  listen  ! " 

With  a  single  bound  Dodge  had  cleared  the  hillock  and  was 
on  his  knees  beside  her.  A  startled,  upward  look  met  him,  — 
expectation,  a  wild  joy,  new  bitterness,  —  these  flashed  in 
turn  across  her  expressive  face.  With  a  wide  movement  of 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS        361 

resistance,  she  turned  away  from  him  and  buried  her  tear- 
stained  face  upon  her  knees. 

Dodge  stood  instantly.  "  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  to  go  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Sobs  alone  answered  him.  She  could  not  drive  him  away. 
His  presence,  his  nearness,  were  appallingly  sweet.  Neither 
could  she  yield  tamely  where  she  had  promised  herself  a 
policy  of  condescension. 

Despairing  of  further  verbal  instruction,  and  glad  in  his 
heart  that  the  repulse  had  not  been  more  vehement,  he  walked 
off  a  few  paces,  and  seated  himself  against  a  tree.  Gwendolen 
held  her  breath  until  he  was  safely  on  the  earth  again. 
She  could  not  have  borne  his  instant  desertion.  All  he  had 
to  do  now,  Dodge  was  well  aware,  was  simply  to  wait,  and 
be  still.  The  one  thing  impossible  to  Gwendolen  was  in- 
definite silence.  Even  before  he  began  to  expect  them,  the 
hysterical  words  came  fluttering,  as  on  broken  wings,  to  his 
ear.  "  I  suppose  you  are  glo — glo — Boating  on  this  scene  of 
my  —  agony  !  You  li — li — like  to  see  me  hideous,  with  red- 
rimmed  eyes  and  a  gar — gar — yamet  nose  !  "  Again  the  head 
went  down,  and  the  tiny  lace  ball  of  a  handkerchief  came  into 
requisition. 

"I  can't  see  your  eyes,  Gwendolen,  or  your  nose,  either. 
I  am  not  looking  for  them.  But  if  they  were  emerald  green 
it  would  n't  phase  me.  You  are  in  trouble.  I  didn't  know 
you  could  cry  like  this.  I  wish  I  could  be  of  some  aid,  some 
little  comfort  to  you." 

Never  before  had  he  called  her  "  Gwendolen  "  in  this  grave 
assured  tone.  No  mere  love-sick  boy  could  have  done  it. 
The  voice  was  that  of  a  man,  with  a  man's  power  and  mas- 
tery and  self-respect.  The  woman  in  her  put  up  a  protecting 
hand,  but  the  deeper  nature  responded  with  smiles.  Reason, 
instinct,  affection,  clamored,  like  insistent  children,  for  the 
boon  of  grace.  Her  heart  leaned  down  to  them.  "  Recog- 
nize him,  — confide  in  him,  —  win  him  now,  forever,"  cried  the 
voices.  "  Nothing  can  help  you,  in  a  time  like  this,  as  his  love 
might  help.  You  need  him,  foolish  one,  —  why  not  admit  it 
and  have  peace  ?  "  But  Vanity  and  Pride  put  on  horrid  masks, 
and  frightened  the  petitioners.  She  kept  her  eyes  hidden. 


362  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"  Well,  shall  I  go  or  stay  ?  "  asked  Dodge,  calmly.  The 
young  man  listened  in  admiring  wonder  at  his  own  smooth 
tone.  How  could  his  thumping  heart  and  brain  direct  that 
tranquil  flow  ? 

"  You  are  wel — wel — welcome  to  stay  if  you  care  to.  I  don't 
own  the  grove,"  said  the  girl. 

Dodge  picked  a  bit  of  leaf  from  the  earth  and  began  to 
shred  the  frail,  brown  lace.  "  I  was  awfully  sorry,  Miss  Todd, 
not  to  be  able  to  tell  you  this  morning  where  the  Minister 
had  gone.  I  am  only  a  servant,  you  know,  and  must  obey 
orders." 

"Oh,  it's  no  matter,"  said  Gwendolen,  airily.  She  was 
elated  to  find  her  spirits,  her  self-confidence,  returning  in  a 
tide.  "  I  know  all  about  it  now,  —  a  good  deal  more,  I  dare 
say,  than  you  yourself." 

"  I  know  nothing,  except  the  place  where  Mr.  Todd  was  to 
go  and  the  purpose  of  the  meeting.  He  was  about  to  tell  me 
the  result  of  it,  when  you  came  in  and  carried  him  off  in 
triumph !  " 

"  Not  in  triumph,  —  good  heavens,  not  in  triumph.  This  is 
the  most  awful  day  of  my  life  ! "  She  lifted  her  head  now, 
throwing  it  backward  to  the  slight  wind,  and  drawing  deep 
breaths.  She  expected  him  to  urge  her  confidence,  to  ask,  at 
least,  what  trouble  had  come  to  her.  Already  she  had  more 
than  half  decided  to  tell  him  all.  He  was  a  safe  confidant,  — 
one  of  whom  her  father  would  approve, —  and — she  must 
admit  that,  at  times,  he  had  clear  judgment.  He  kept  an 
irritating  silence.  Gwendolen  began  to  fidget. 

"  Well,  don't  you  care  whether  I  suffer  or  not  ?  I  thought 
you  said  you  wanted  to  help  me  ! " 

"I  want  it  more  than  I  want  anything  else  in  the  world, 
except  one  thing,"  said  Dodge,  and  moved  two  trees  nearer. 

"Well,  well,"  cried  the  other,  nervously,  "I  shall  tell 
you.  I  have  been  simply  dying  to  tell  somebody.  To  bear 
a  suspense  like  this  all  alone  is  like  keeping  your  fist  in  a 
water  dyke,  —  or  barring  a  door  with  your  arm,  or  some  of 
those  dreadful  heroic  things."  Hampered  at  first  by  a  con- 
stantly recalled  determination  to  maintain  her  dignity,  she 
began  the  exciting  history  of  the  day,  starting  from  the  moment 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       363 

when  she  heard  of  Pierre's  escape,  and  ending  with  the  visit 
of  her  father  and  herself  to  the  deserted  Hagane  mansion. 

Dodge  listened  to  all  with  an  interest  that  a  barometer 
might  feel.  He  was  silent,  except  for  a  very  few  terse, 
direct  questions.  Not  an  exclamation  escaped  him,  and  not 
a  point.  As  she  neared  the  end,  Gwendolen's  voice  gave  way, 
and  the  little  handkerchief  was  raised.  Dodge  moved  a  tree 
nearer. 

"Now  tell  me  what  you  think,  tell  me  truly.  I  have 
buried  my  own  thoughts  in  the  earth,  and  sit  here  on  their 
grave." 

"  Let  my  thoughts  go  there  with  yours,  dear,"  said  her  com- 
panion, mournfully.  "  The  affair  is  as  bad  as  it  could  well 
be.  Luck  alone  is  going  to  save  your  friend,  and  from  what 
I  have  seen  and  known  of  Miss  Yuki,  she  doesn't  seem  marked 
out  by  good  luck." 

She  did  not  resent  his  hopelessness.  Apparently  she  had 
foreseen  it.  The  telling  of  her  story  had  eased  while  it  had 
wearied  her.  She  gave  a  long,  sobbing  sigh,  like  a  child,  and 
let  her  head  droop. 

Before  she  knew  it  Dodge's  arm  was  around  her.  "I'd 
give  my  life  to  keep  this  and  all  other  sorrows  from  you, 
Gwendolen.  But  all  I  can  offer  now  is  —  myself.  Come  to 
me,  darling,  put  your  poor  tired  little  head  against  me,  and 
let  me  try  to  comfort  you." 

The  girl  began  to  tremble  piteously.  In  her  nervous  state, 
the  brimming  tears  soon  overflowed.  "No  —  no — "  she 
whispered,  trying  to  push  him  off.  "  It  is  not  me  you  love,  — 
you  are  Car-car — car-men's !  She  said  so.  You  belong  to 
Car-Carmen ! " 

"  I  belong  to  Carmen's  cat ! "  cried  Dodge.  "  What  am  I 
to  Carmen  or  Carmen  to  me  ?  " 

"Then  you  de — ceived  her!" 

"Pshaw!  I'll  make  Carmen  a  sugar  man  in  my  image. 
She  '11  like  that  lots  better.  I  love  only  you  —  only  you,  you 
beautiful,  golden,  tormenting  angel  of  a  girl !  If  you  had  n't 
kept  me  on  pins  and  needles,  I  would  n't  say  it  !  I  love  you, 
I  say.  How  could  any  man  in  his  senses  ever  love  any  other 
woman  after  once  seeing  you  ?  " 


364  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Gwendolen  tried  to  be  stern.  "No,"  she  said  again,  "you 
don't  love,  you  don't  respect  me.  You  were  horrid  that  day  ! 
You  defied  me  to  my  face.  You  would  n't  apologize.  Will  you 
apologize  now  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  won't,"  he  cried  with  a  ring  of  victory.  "  I  'd  be 
a  mucker  and  a  sneak  to  do  so,  and  you  would  never  want  to 
look  at  me  again.  Deny  it,  —  and  deny  that  you  love  me, — 
oh,  Gwendolen,  Gwendolen !  " 

With  a  little  sob,  in  which  a  golden  feather  had  been  caught, 
she  leaned  to  his  arms. 

He  took  up  the  little  brown  sealskin  cap,  flung  it  back  to 
her  head,  and,  in  his  most  boyish,  impudent,  and  ecstatic  tone, 
said  in  her  ear,  "  You  know  the  penalty  for  wearing  another 
fellow's  hat  ? " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 

IN  his  favorite  small  smoking-room  at  the  French  Lega- 
tion, crammed  with  motley  Japanese  and  Gallic  bric-a-brac, 
Count  Ronsard  fumbled  nervously  with  his  nether-lip. 

"You  sent  for  me,  your  Excellency?"  said  the  secretary 
Mouquin,  at  the  door. 

"Allons!  Entrez !  It  is  the  devil!  —  what  our  English 
cousins  call  'the  beastly  bore.'  But  for  his  mother,  the 
Princess  Olga,  I  would  wash  my  hands  entirely ! " 

He  went  through  the  gesture,  revolving  one  fat  pudding  of 
a  fist  about  the  other,  and  closing  with  an  outward  fling  of 
both,  and  a  shrug  that  made  his  body  quake.  "No  news 
at  all,  Mouquiu?" 

"Nothing  decisive,  your  Excellency.  A  mere  hint,  a 
hushed  rumor,  that  Le  Beau  was  last  traced  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Prince  Hagane's  official  residence." 

"  Sacrebleu !     You  should  have  probed." 

"I  asked  a  few  questions  guardedly.  Your  Excellency, 
one  hesitates  to  put  a  match  to  a  powder-train." 

"Quite  true,  Mouquin.  And  when  did  the  hushed  rumor 
have  it  that  he  was  seen,  — what  hour?" 

"  Before  noon,  —  not  long,  in  fact,  after  his  mysterious 
escape  from  the  nurses." 

Ronsard's  head  dropped  forward  an  inch.  A  sickly  glow 
drove  the  usual  gray  pallor  from  his  face. 

"Doubtless,"  ventured  the  secretary,  "Monsieur  Le  Beau 
will  find  his  way  sooner  or  later  —  to  you ! " 

"Certainement!  Certainement !  "  cried  the  other,  finding 
relief  in  sarcasm.  "He  will  come  weeping  to  the  arms  of 
Mother  Prance.  Bah!  I  would  that  Mother  Prance  could 
greet  him  with  the  toes  of  these  boots ! " 

He  thrust  forward  pointed  patent-leather  tips,  and  stared 
at  them,  as  if  calculating  the  punishment  they  might  inflict. 


366  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

Mouquin,  not  being  asked  to  find  a  seat,  still  stood  by  the 
door.  The  very  air  of  the  room  held  in  solution,  with  its 
blue  smoke,  the  dampness  of  foreboding.  The  first  secre- 
tary's voice  sounded  thin. 

"The  doctors  think  this  mad  exposure  means  his  certain 
death,  your  Excellency." 

"Death!  H'm!  He'll  take  good  care  to  stay  alive  till 
we  're  all  involved.  It 's  too  late  for  him  to  die." 

The  other  raised  his  brows  but  made  no  answer. 

"Have  an  absinthe,  Mouquin?" 

Without  noticing  that  Mouquin  shook  his  head  Ronsard 
leaned  over  heavily  and  poured  a  little  of  the  liquid  into  a 
glass,  filling  it  up  with  water.  Without  drinking,  he  stared 
as  if  he  saw  a  vision  in  its  milky  depths. 

"Just  a  chance  —  the  air  is  thick  with  plots  —  Pierre  might 
be  feigning — the  Princess  Hagane —  who  knows?  —  per- 
haps connives,  betrays  —  Pshaw !  "  Count  Ronsard  dreamed 
under  his  breath. 

"No  further  orders,  your  Excellency?"  asked  the  younger 
man,  patiently,  his  hand  on  the  door. 

"No  —  yes!  Bring  me  the  first  news  of  that  wandering 
lunatic  —  and  avoid  the  police!  " 

The  words  fell  before  a  fury  of  feet  that  bowled  down  the 
outer  corridor.  The  door  burst  open,  nearly  flinging  Mouquin 
to  the  floor.  Pierre  Le  Beau  reeled  in,  crimson,  panting, 
wild-eyed,  hatless,  and  waved  at  the  startled  minister  a 
large  paper  sealed  with  a  red  seal,  round  and  clear  as  a  Jap- 
anese sun.  Ronsard  in  the  millionth  part  of  an  instant 
recalled  himself.  He  sat  erect,  but  his  eye  gleamed  beady 
and  keen  as  a  rat's.  He  was  holding  back  with  impartial 
judgment  a  riotous  flush  of  hope.  But  Mouquin,  as  if  hypno- 
tized, locked  the  door  and  backed  up  against  it.  Pierre's 
eyes  caught  the  cloudy  green  of  the  absinthe,  still  standing 
in  the  minister's  glass.  He  tottered  toward  it,  tried  to  speak, 
but  merely  pointed  in  jerks  with  his  free  hand.  Ronsard 
silently  held  out  the  glass  and  motioned  to  an  empty  chair. 
Pierre  drained  the  drug  standing,  then  fell  rather  than 
sat.  A  sweat  sprang  suddenly  to  his  skin.  The  fair  hair 
plastered  itself  in  little  brown  sickles  on  his  white  forehead. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       367 

" What  is  it,  Pierre?" 

Eonsard's  eyes  had  not  left  the  document  half  crumpled 
in  Pierre's  fist.  His  voice  had  a  bracing  echo.  A  returning 
wave  of  unhealthy  strength  warned  Pierre  to  action. 

"  Yes ! "  he  cried,  swaying  across  the  table,  holding  out 
the  paper  and  shaking  it  up  and  down.  "I've  done  it! 
What  you  wanted !  Sold  my  honor  to  Hell  for  it !  Quick ! 
Quick !  America !  The  war ! " 

Pierre's  head,  not  yet  balanced  by  the  stealthy  drug,  reeled, 
and  the  large  envelope  dropped  on  the  table.  Bonsard  recog- 
nized the  great  Cabinet  seal.  With  a  wolfish  twitching  at 
the  corners  of  the  mouth,  which  his  utmost  effort  could  not 
control,  he  slowly  pushed  his  hand  across  the  polished  ma- 
hogany. Then  two  currents  of  thought  met,  and  he  paused. 
The  fretfulness,  the  lax  instability  of  flesh,  were  gone.  He 
sat  stiff,  a  compact  mass,  in  his  broad  chair.  One  could  see 
that  behind  the  ample  jowl  stretched  a  great  square  bone. 

"First,  what  is  it,  Pierre?"  he  repeated  coldly. 

Pierre  rocked  in  his  seat.  "A  state  paper  —  of  utmost 
import  —  signed  by  Grubb  and  Todd  and  all  the  Japanese ! 

—  It  means  alliance !  —  I  saw  them  all  as  I  crouched  in  the 
garden.     E-ead  it,  quick!     The  wax  is  hardly  set." 

Konsard's  mouth  watered,  but  his  brain  grew  firm. 
"Wonderful!  Past  belief!"  he  said.  "But  tell  me  how 
did  Monsieur  —  obtain  possession?  "  He  was  measuring  the 
depth  of  Pierre's  insanity,  gazing  desperately  for  signs  of 
returning  judgment.  "  Is  it  safe  for  me  ? "  he  continued 
quietly. 

"Good  God,  man!  "  cried  Pierre.  "Here  I  win  you,  with 
my  life,  perhaps,  the  very  key  to  this  war  —  to  history  for 
all  time  —  and  you  prate  about  safety!  Is  war  safe?  Is 
anything  safe?" 

Konsard's  voice  came  low  and  stinging.    "  Tell  me !    Where 

—  and  how  —  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

Pierre  was  too  over-wrought  to  lie,  even  had  he  dared. 
He  swaggered.  He  stretched  forth  a  hand  and  snatched 
the  paper  defiantly.  "I  took  it  —  yes,  from  the  body  of 
Prince  Hagane!  Glorious,  wasn't  it?  Mon  Dieu!  Think 
of  it!  In  his  official  residence !  " 


368  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"It  means  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,"  said  Mou- 
quin,  weakly,  against  the  door. 

"  Hagane ! "  Konsard  had  exclaimed  in  spite  of  himself. 
He  knew  it  meant  the  utmost  of  something,  but  which  — 
glory  or  dishonor  ?  Either  was  incredible.  "  Yes,  yes, 
Pierre,"  he  said  soothingly,  as  to  a  child;  "Hagane's  body 
—  I  understand.  But  why  —  did  n't  —  Hagane  stop  you?  " 

"Why  ?  It  is  droll  —  he  could  not!  He  was  tied,  tangled. 
His  feet  were  tangled  — yes,  tightly  entangled  !  He  was  too 
busy  with  that  to  follow." 

Pierre's  laugh  turned  Ronsard  sick. 

"What  or  who  entangled  him,  Pierre?" 

"You  keep  her  name  out  of  this,  damn  you  !  " 

Ronsard's  pendent  underlip  went  gray  to  the  root.  "Then 
she  will  die,  too."  He  breathed  it  to  himself. 

Whether  Pierre  heard  or  not,  his  tense  attitude  relaxed. 
He  cowered  back  in  his  chair.  Mouquin,  thinking  he  had 
fainted,  ran  forward. 

"  No  !  No  more  absinthe  !  No  medicine  !  Coffee  !  For 
God's  sake,  coffee!  That  may  keep  me  up." 

A  new  thought  flashed  to  Ronsard.  "  Mouquin  !  Ring, 
and  yourself  receive  the  coffee  —  just  outside  the  door." 

His  words  rang  quick  and  clear.  "  We  must  think,  now, 
like  gods  or  demons  for  swiftness,"  he  went  on  to  Pierre. 
"Hagane  will  be  with  us  at  once!  How  did  you  keep 
ahead?  You  must  deny,  deny!  Don't  you  see,  it  compro- 
mises France?  " 

Pierre  raised  his  eyes  sleepily.  "Hagane  —  come?  No, 
Excellency  !  he  did  not  see  —  " 

"Madame  will  tell  him,  fool." 

"Never  !     She  will  die  first." 

"Ah,  allow  me,  then,  to  congratulate  you,"  Ronsard  per- 
mitted himself  to  sneer.  Then  swiftly,  "You  have  been 
seen!  The  servants!  The  police  —  " 

"Your  Excellency,"  chattered  Mouquin,  darting  a  ghastly 
face  through  the  door,  "Prince  Hagane  is  announced.  He 
is  coming  down  the  hall  —  he  is  here  !  " 

"I  thought  I  heard  footsteps.  Hold  him,  just  a  moment." 
Ronsard  rose  to  his  feet.  With  a  low  whisper  that  stung 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  369 

with  the  lash  of  a  knout  he  bent  to  Pierre.  "Stand,  you 
fool !  And  if  you  have  never  known  what  it  is  to  be  a  man, 
try  the  feeling  now  !  Hide  the  paper  in  your  breast.  There ! 
Smile,  though  your  face  crack !  " 

Pierre  thrust  the  document  into  his  coat  and  rose  to  greet 
Hagane,  who  entered  calm,  dignified,  and  stately,  not  a  fold 
out  of  place,  nor  a  hair  ruffled.  If  any  characteristic  were 
intensified  it  was  in  deliberate  tardiness  of  advance,  an  undue 
rigidity  of  self-restraint.  He  bowed  deeply  to  Count  Ron- 
sard,  ignoring,  for  the  moment,  the  presence  of  the  younger 
men. 

"Your  Excellency  will  be  surprised,  perhaps  annoyed,  at 
this  unceremonious  call.  It  concerns  a  personal  matter  which 
could  not  be  delayed.  There  is  nothing  ofiicial,  you  under- 
stand. It  lies  between  Monsieur  Le  Beau  and  myself."  He 
turned  now  to  Pierre  with  the  slightest  inclination  of  the 
head,  and  then  bowed  more  deferentially  to  the  flaccid 
Mouquin  by  the  wall. 

"Anything  that  brings  your  Highness  is  an  honor,"  re- 
turned Ronsard,  himself  placing  a  chair  for  the  great  man. 

Hagane  seated  himself  with  the  same  painstaking  calm. 
As  he  did  not  speak,  his  host  continued,  with  obvious  effort 
at  composure,  "What  does  slightly  surprise  me,  your  High- 
ness, —  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  it,  —  is  —  er  —  your  seem- 
ing so  certain  of  finding  Monsieur  Le  Beau  here,  when  your 
efficient  police  have  been  searching  —  " 

"Le  Beau  has  been  here  for  some  time,"  put  in  Mouquin, 
who  was  so  nervous  that  he  should  have  been  elsewhere. 

Ronsard  winced.  A  sombre  fire  flickered  in  Hagane's 
eyes.  "And  am  I  to  infer  that  the  efficient  police,  of 
whom  his  Excellency  so  kindly  speaks,  have  failed  to  keep 
in  touch  with  Monsieur's  Legation?" 

The  two  young  men  crossed  glances  of  dismay.  Quickly 
Hagane  turned  his  eyes  to  Pierre's  flushed  face.  Each 
moist  curl  burned  it  like  a  scar.  "And  similarly,  I  sup- 
pose, I  am  mistaken  in  thinking  that  Monsieur  Le  Beau  has 
but  just  arrived  in  great  haste." 

Before  an  answer  could  be  found,  footsteps  and  a  timid 
knock  made  interruption.  Mouquin  craned  his  neck  around 

24 


370  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

to  the  aperture  of  the  door,  altering  but  slightly  the  position 
of  his  body. 

"A  servant  says,  Excellency,  that  the  American  minister, 
Mr.  Todd,  telephones  from  his  Legation  that  he  must  see 
you  immediately." 

"Go,  Mouquin,  and  stop  him,"  said  Ronsard,  glibly. 
"  Say  I  am  out.  But  if  he  is  already  started  wait  for  him 
at  the  door,  and  be  careful  to  usher  him  into  the  small  draw- 
ing-room, and  keep  him  there  till  I  come.  Conciliate  him. 
Your  conversation,  you  understand,  is  to  be  on  the  high  C 
of  flippancy." 

In  the  short  interval  Pierre  had  regained  self-control. 
"Lord  Hagane,  in  what  way  can  I  serve  you?"  He  made 
a  great  effort  to  be  nonchalant. 

Hagane  leaned  slightly  toward  Konsard.  "Perhaps  you 
have  heard,  Excellency,  that  a  few  moments  since,  Monsieur 
Le  Beau  picked  up,  in  my  humble  home,  quite  by  accident, 
a  private  letter  that  I  had  carelessly  let  fall." 

"A  private  letter!"  Ronsard  turned  with  well-feigned 
astonishment  to  his  subordinate.  "  Oh,  no !  Monsieur  Le 
Beau  is  the  soul  of  honor ! " 

Pierre  could  not  think  how  to  weigh  the  naturalness  of  in- 
dignation against  a  gentlemanly  magnanimity.  "The  prince 
is  mistaken,"  he  said  weakly.  "It  must  have  been  another 
man." 

Without  a  flicker  of  anger  or  impatience  Hagane,  still 
facing  the  count,  inquired,  "Does  the  young  man  act  with 
your  authority  ?  " 

"  Mon  Dieu,  your  Highness  !  No.  Monsieur  Le  Beau  has  a 
certain  official  connection  —  but  in  such  a  private  matter  "  — 
Spread  hands  and  a  shrug  completed  the  thought. 

"Were  you  not  at  my  villa  this  morning?"  Hagane  had 
turned  suddenly  to  Pierre. 

What  could  the  Frenchman  say?  "No,"  came  the  pliant 
lie. 

"Come  now,  Prince  Hagane!"  began  Ronsard,  genially. 
"You  see  it's  all  a  mistake.  Forgive  the  boy  his  embarrass- 
ment. He  is  ill.  To  accuse  him  of  purloining  a  private 
letter  !  Mother  of  God !  In  France  it  means  a  duel  —  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS  371 

"Not  purloining,  your  Excellency,"  corrected  Hagane. 
"  Taking  by  accident,  —  quite  by  accident.  That  is  different. 
If  our  young  friend  was  suffering  from  delirium  he  may  have 
forgotten.  Ask  him  to  feel  in  his  pocket." 

"  It 's  a  damnable  lie,  hatched  for  some  personal  reason," 
said  Pierre. 

Hagane  slowly  rose.  It  was  as  if  bronze  moved.  Konsard 
instinctively  imitated  him,  watching  closely.  He  was  con- 
vinced, now,  that  Hagane  knew ;  but  could  not  guess  his  next 
move. 

"My  time  is  valuable  to-day,"  said  the  Japanese,  drawl- 
ing a  little.  "I  must  speak  with  Monsieur  Le  Beau  alone." 

Blank  silence  fell  on  the  group.  Hagane  looked  from  one 
to  the  other,  a  slight  shade  of  contempt  growing  in  his  eyes. 
"Is  Monsieur  Le  Beau  afraid?"  he  asked  politely.  "I  assure 
you,  gentlemen,  I  am  unarmed.  Even  so,  he  might  feel  safer 
with  a  knife,  a  pistol.  I  regret  that  mine  is  at  home,  or  I 
would  be  pleased  to  lend  it.  Perhaps  one  of  these  gentle- 
men can  accommodate  you." 

Pierre's  face  was  growing  white  in  a  circle  about  his 
mouth.  He  stepped  to  Ronsard's  desk,  took  out  a  revolver,  a 
pearl  and  silver  toy,  and  slammed  it  on  the  table  between 
himself  and  Hagane. 

"  Go,  your  Excellency ! "  he  said,  with  eyes  on  Ronsard. 
"I,  too,  desire  private  speech  with  him." 

"Pierre!  Pierre!  remember  France,"  cried  Count  Ronsard. 

Hagane  bowed  to  the  speaker. 

As  Ronsard  hesitated  at  the  door,  Mouquin  pushed  it 
open  cautiously  and  brought  in  the  coffee.  "Not  yet,  Ex- 
cellency," he  said.  Hagane  waved  his  refusal  of  a  proffered 
cup.  Pierre  poured  himself  three  cups  in  succession,  drain- 
ing quickly  each  scalding  draught. 

Hagane  bowed  again  to  Ronsard.     "Now,"  he  said  simply. 

"Get  out,  Mouquin.     Remember,  Prince,  the  boy  is  ill." 

"I  can  take  care  of  myself,"  Pierre  said,  his  boyish  head 
thrown  back. 

Left  alone  the  two  men  faced  each  other.  Pierre  leaned 
with  one  delicate  hand  on  the  table.  Nervously  exalted  and 
chafed  by  silence  he  hurled  words  at  his  sombre  opponent. 


372  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"  If  your  time  is  really  valuable  you  waste  it,  my  Lord.  I 
advise  you  to  inquire  elsewhere." 

"Let  us  be  seated,"  said  Hagane,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 
Pierre,  as  at  a  physical  thrust,  went  backward  into  a  chair. 
"Now,  shall  we  smoke?"  continued  the  other,  his  tone 
deepening  in  friendliness.  Its  suavity  had  the  effect  of 
smothering.  Pierre  fought  it  off  with  a  rude  weapon. 

"Certainly,  your  Highness.     Cigarettes  or  opium?" 

"  Ah !  Do  you  keep  the  latter  luxury  ?  "  inquired  the  prince, 
with  interest.  "  Have  Frenchmen  adopted  this — vice — also  ?  " 

"I  meant  for  you  only,"  explained  Pierre,  foolishly. 

"  You  must  be  a  new-comer,  unaware  that  I,  myself,  had 
the  drug  excluded  from  Japan.  You  Christian  Europeans 
had  already  forced  it  on  China." 

Pierre  did  not  look  up  or  try  to  answer.  He  felt  his 
every  move  a  false  one.  The  steadying  of  the  coffee  did 
not  come  fast  enough.  He  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  in  some 
telling  thrust.  He  must  defend  himself  and  Yuki.  Count 
Eonsard  should,  after  all,  acknowledge  him  a  man.  The 
smooth,  cool  tones  of  the  other  now  flowed  like  a  refreshing 
liquid  through  his  brain. 

"Am  I  right  in  thinking  this  your  first  visit  to  Japan, 
Monsieur  ?  " 

Pierre,  half  dazed,  answered,  with  instinctive  politeness, 
"My  first,  yes.  But  I  have  for  years  been  interested." 

"May  I  venture  to  ask  what  special  phase  of  our  civiliza- 
tion has  been  honored  with  your  interest  ?  " 

Pierre's  demon  nudged  him.  "It's  woman,"  he  said, 
with  a  short,  ugly  laugh. 

Hagane's  smile  grew  almost  fatherly.  "In  that  you  are 
no  exception  to  the  majority  of  your  countrymen,  Monsieur." 

"To  be  accurate  I  should  have  said  —  a  woman." 

The  nobleman  took  a  long  whiff  at  his  cigarette  before 
remarking  thoughtfully,  "It  is  an  unending  source  of  won- 
der to  our  students,  Monsieur,  that  you  of  the  West,  even 
your  greatest  thinkers,  take  women  so  seriously.  Now  with 
us,  apart  from  the  one  function  of  becoming  the  mothers 
of  our  sons,  they  are  to  men  as  playthings  to  children,  — 
as  flowers,  or  bright-colored  birds." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       373 

"Am  I  to  infer,  then,  that  to  your  Highness  one  woman 
would  be  about  as  desirable  as  another?" 

"Ah,  Monsieur  !  You  are  caustic.  Not  quite  that,  I  pro- 
test. There  is  discrimination,  even  in  playthings.  And  we 
must  always  take  into  account  the  effect  of  physique,  —  and 
character,  —  upon  possible  sons." 

At  repetition  of  this  sickening  thought  Pierre's  rage  gave 
a  convulsive  bound.  The  veins  in  his  temples  burned  the 
skin.  His  delicate  hands  clenched  themselves  into  steel. 
He  grasped  the  pistol,  brandished  it  wildly,  and  putting  his 
face  close  to  Hagane  hissed,  "  Leave  out  the  name  of  Yuki, 
and  your  satyr's  thoughts  of  her,  if  you  expect  to  live  !  " 

The  prince's  raised  hand  concealed  an  expression  of  amuse- 
ment. Sadness,  not  altogether  convincing,  took  its  place. 
Pierre  sank  back  to  his  chair  sulkily,  ashamed  of  his 
violence. 

Hagane's  eyes  lowered  themselves,  as  if  in  embarrassment, 
to  the  table.  He  toyed  with  the  brittle  stem  of  a  wine-glass. 
"  It  is  unfortunate  you  are  so  excitable.  For  it  was  just  about 
—  Yuki  —  no,  never  mind  the  pistol  —  that  I  was  thinking 
to  take  you  into  my  confidence." 

Le  Beau  stared.  The  prince  continued  thoughtfully :  "  You 
have  been  her  friend  —  " 

"  I  am  her  friend  !  " 

"  Exactly.  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  told.  After  to-day 
there  will  be  —  no  Princess  Hagane.  She  leaves  my  roof 
and  must  publicly  relinquish  my  name." 

The  prince  spoke  blandly.  Pierre's  eyes  seemed  to  pro- 
trude. The  shock  of  this  menace  counteracted  the  coffee. 
"She  is  innocent  —  "  He  corrected  himself.  "Why?  What 
has  she  done  ? " 

Hagane  smiled  pleasantly.  "Her  innocence,  as  you  call  it, 
is  too  dangerous.  My  duties,  you  know.  She  distracts  me, 
tires  me.  A  mere  child  !  " 

"You  never  cared  for  her.  You  took  her  from  me  to  show 
your  hellish  power.  Now  you  will  cast  her  out,  dishonor 
her  —  relentlessly,  for  a  new  whim!" 

"Monsieur  should  know  best  why  I  cannot  trust  her." 

A  wild  thought  leaped  like  flame  about  Pierre's  distorted 


374       THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

fancy.  "  Can  you  mean  that  she  goes  utterly  free  —  free  to 
be  happy  —  back  to  her  father's  home  ?  " 

Hagane  lowered  his  eyes.  When  he  spoke  his  tone  was 
conciliatory,  even  regretful. 

"Onda,  being  my  kerai,  will  scarcely  consent  to  receive 
her." 

"  Monsters !  both  of  you.  I  see  —  I  might  have  known. 
But  the  Todds,  thank  God,  are  her  friends ! " 

Hagane  half  lifted  heavy  lids.  "Minister  Todd, — who 
has  signed  that  stolen  paper,  —  may  —  er  —  hesitate." 

"  Mother  of  Christ !  What  will  you  have  me  think  ? 
What  is  to  be  her  fate  ?  Some  foul  black  thought  still 
bubbles  behind  those  reptile  eyes  of  yours !  Out  with  it ! 
Is  she  to  be  cast  forth  helpless,  friendless,  at  the  mercy  of 
the  first  charitable  stranger  —  " 

Hagane  lifted  a  hand.  "  Now  we  approach  reason  though 
by  a  somewhat  frenzied  path.  You  are  the  succoring  knight. 
Merely  return  to  me,  with  unbroken  seal,  the  document  I  saw 
you  take,  and  for  reward  I  ask  you  to  receive  free,  and  un- 
trammelled, the  person  of  the  present  Princess  Hagane." 

Suspicion  drove  back  into  shadow  a  host  of  eager  thoughts. 
After  one  incredulous  look  Pierre  burst  into  a  clamor  of 
mirthless  laughter.  "  So  it  is  a  bribe  !  What  fools  you 
must  truly  think  all  foreigners.  Give  the  princess  to  me 
bodily?  This  is  melodrama.  Even  had  I  the  paper  and 
should  return  it  —  I  still  deny,  damn  you! — you  would  take 
powerful  precaution  that  she  did  not  come." 

"Do  you  so  greatly  distrust  your  powers  of  attraction  ?" 

"No,  nor  her  love,  God  bless  her!  But  I  distrust  you 
and  your  Oriental  subtleties.  She  would  come  —  she  loves 
me  —  but  you  would  not  let  her.  What  guarantee  can  you 
offer  ?  " 

Hagane  looked  pained.  "No  one  has  ever  doubted  my 
word.  But  if  you  need  it,  take  Japan's  most  sacred  oath 
—  by  the  life  of  our  Emperor!  Prevent  her?  Oh,  no.  I 
shall  urge  —  compel." 

Pierre  struggled  to  preserve  his  balance.  "Even  in  this 
barbaric  country  —  have  even  —  you  —  such  power  ?  Can 
you  not  be  called  to  some  account  ?  " 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       375 

"I  regret  the  necessity  of  being  vulgar,"  said  Hagane,  in 
a  composed  voice,  "  but  I  see  I  must  explain.  It  is  my  — 
what  you  call  position  —  my  —  er  —  rank.  It  might  not 
be  possible  to  every  Japanese,  Monsieur.  But  as  things 
are,  the  woman  is  as  much  mine  as  a  French  spaniel  would 
be  yours.  Again  I  assure  you,  by  the  life  of  my  Emperor, 
she  will  come.  Again  I  ask,  Do  you  accept  my  bargain?" 

Pierre  whispered  to  himself  Count  Ronsard's  words,  "  Re- 
member France !  "  He  tried  to  keep  his  reason,  but  the  wave 
of  hope  had  surged  high.  He  saw  as  in  a  vision  Yuki,  dis- 
graced, rejected,  wandering  alone  through  the  wind-swept 
streets.  He  saw  her  face  sheltered  upon  his  arm,  —  that 
little  face  so  pure,  so  delicate,  so  well-beloved.  Her  deso- 
lation touched  him  for  a  moment  with  an  unselfish  grief. 
"She  is  proud  —  she  is  brave!"  he  cried  aloud.  "Even  at 
your  orders  will  she  come?" 

"I  think  so,  Monsieur.  She  might  possibly  consider  it  a 
last  chance  to  serve  the  country  she  has  wronged." 

"Yes,  and  she  might  prefer  to  die." 

Hagane  sent  a  curious,  cold  look  to  search  the  young  man's 
thought.  "Do  Christians  dare  —  to  die?" 

The  acid  scorn  bit  deep.  "Yes,"  raved  Pierre.  "And  they 
dare  to  live,  and,  sometimes,  they  dare  to  slay!  I  do  not 
consent,  remember.  I  believe  it  yet  to  be  a  trick,  a  mockery. 
If  I  find  it  so,  I  swear  in  the  name  of  that  Christian  God 
whom  you  blaspheme  —  if  I  find  that  you  are  holding  out 
the  one  bribe  that  you  know  I  would  sell  my  soul  to  the 
devil  for  —  thinking  to  gloat  over  the  new  deviltry  of 
snatching  it  away  —  I'll  —  I'll  —  "  He  broke  off,  mouth- 
ing for  words  that  would  not  come. 

His  hand  unconsciously  fingered  the  cold  surface  of  the 
pistol.  Again  Hagane  looked  bored, rand  made  a  gesture  of 
distaste. 

"Don't  sneer  like  that,  you  toad  of  hell!"  shrieked  his 
companion.  "You  think  this  bluster, — but  I  mean  it.  I 
mean  it  terribly !  "  A  sudden  sound  in  the  outer  hall  cut 
short  the  threat.  Footsteps,  in  stockinged  feet,  or  in  the 
Japanese  tabi,  came  swiftly.  Both  men  by  instinct  fixed 
eyes  upon  the  door. 


376  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Yuki  walked  straight  to  her  husband  and  stood  still.  Their 
eyes  met.  "I  thank  the  Gods  that  you  are  safe,"  she  said 
aloud.  Her  glance  moved  quickly  to  Pierre,  surprising  on 
his  face  a  hurt,  incredulous  expression. 

"  Monsieur,  be  comforted.  It  is  for  the  country,  not  for 
me,"  mocked  Hagane. 

"And  now,  Madame,"  he  said,  with  bloodshot  eyes  on 
Yuki,  "have  you  explanation  for  this  new  act  of  disobedi- 
ence, of  affront  to  my  dignity?" 

'Yuki  did  not  hasten  to  reply.  Whether  the  power  had 
grown  from  without  or  within  that  childish  form,  a  new 
strength  was  now  hers.  She  had  the  look  of  one  who,  after 
long  wandering  in  a  dangerous  forest,  has  spied  a  path. 

The  gray  robe,  hastily  caught  back  to  decorous  lines,  showed 
traces  of  rough  handling.  Over  her  head  she  had  thrown  a 
light  wrap  called  a  dzukin.  It  hid  her  forehead  with  a  nun- 
like  band,  was  crossed  under  the  chin,  and  knotted  loosely 
behind 'the  head.  Not  a  strand  of  hair  emerged.  Her  face, 
in  the  dull  silver  setting,  gleamed  like  a  long  white  pearl. 

Hagane  observed  the  change  in  her.  The  repulsion  left 
his  eyes.  He  waited  in  patience,  and  with  some  curiosity, 
for  her  answer.  "I  came,  your  Highness,"  she  vouchsafed 
at  length,  "because  without  me  you  cannot  get  the  paper." 

Hagane's  eyes  went  instantly  to  Pierre. 

"Yuki,  for  God's  sake  are  you  mad?"  cried  the  French- 
man. "  I  know  of  no  paper.  I  have  assured  him  that  I  do 
not  know  of  it !  " 

"Give  him  the  paper,  Pierre,"  said  the  girl,  gently. 
"Through  me  it  was  lost,  and  if  I  am  to  have  a  human 
soul  hereafter  —  give  him  the  paper." 

Hagane  sucked  in  bitter  triumph  from  Pierre's  discom- 
fiture. His  eyes  crucified  the  boyish  face.  Like  a  brood 
of  dark  vultures  his  conjectures  swooped  down  to  the  cower- 
ing prey.  Yet  before  Yuki's  entrance  he  had,  for  a  mo- 
ment, felt  talons  at  his  own  breast.  Instinctively  Pierre 
had  clutched  at  his  coat,  where  the  document  lay  concealed. 
Hagane  said  softly,  "Perhaps  it  is  as  well,  Madame,  that 
you  have  disobeyed.  Yet  on  your  lover's  countenance  I 
do  not  observe  signs  of  joyous  welcome." 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       377 

"I  came  looking  for  no  welcome,  Lord,  nor  has  personal 
desire  directed  me.  I  have  done  great  wrong.  Again  has 
my  weakness  proved  my  enemy.  But  a  hope  of  partial 
atonement  has  not  gone  altogether  from  me."  She  stretched 
both  hands  to  Pierre.  "Pierre,  if  you  have  known  love, 
give  me  the  paper." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  stammered  Pierre.  ''Are  you 
against  me  for  that  man?  Here  is  the  chance  of  our  revenge, 
—  our  passport  to  happiness.  I  have  not  harmed  him  other- 
wise. Would  you  take  this  one  possible  chance  from  me?  " 

"  I  am  not  against  you,  Pierre.  I  am  not  for  Hagane.  It 
is  myself,  my  wretched,  shivering  self,  for  which  I  plead. 
No,  you  cannot  understand.  I  am  Japanese.  I  must  regain 
the  paper.  Through  my  cowardice  you  won  it.  At  any 
sacrifice  you  can  name  I  must  get  it  back." 

Hagane  saw  how  she  labored  to  keep  her  voice  gentle  and 
soothing.  She  had  the  accents  of  a  suffering  mother  who 
tries  to  coax  a  sick  child.  The  husband  saw  more  in  the 
calm,  ashen  face.  "You  have  yet  patriotism,"  he  said,  so 
low  that  she  alone  heard. 

To  these  words  she  gave  no  recognition.  She  watched  the 
Frenchman  as  Hagane  studied  her.  The  folds  of  her  dzukin, 
heaped  high  and  light  about  the  slim  throat,  stifled  her.  She 
tugged  nervously  at  it  until  one  end  came  loose  and  fell.  By 
inches  the  flexible  fabric  crawled  down  from  hair  to  shoulder, 
then  down  her  body  to  the  floor.  The  disorder  of  the  thick 
hair,  one  blue-black  lock  almost  hiding  her  left  temple  and 
streaming  to  her  breast,  gave  her  an  unfamiliar,  a  weird, 
even  a  supernatural  appearance. 

Hagane  still  held  a  cigarette  in  the  death-mask  of  his  face. 
He  took  it  out  now  carefully.  "  You  speak  of  revenge,  Mon- 
sieur, meaning,  of  course,  the  personal  revenge.  Euro- 
peans conceive  all  offences  to  be  personal.  You  weaklings 
have  your  code,  —  your  jumping-jack  ethics.  Something 
touches  a  spring,  and  your  honor  leaps  up  and  crows.  You 
could  hardly  understand  the  language  we  now  speak,  though 
our  words  were  purest  French.  I  will  attempt  to  elucidate. 
This  woman  refers  to  an  —  essence  —  underlying  all  personali- 
ties and  all  time.  It  is  a  stratum  of  substance  which  boils 


378  THE  BREATH   OF   THE  GODS 

and  seethes  in  our  sun,  which  sets  the  planets  swinging  in 
their  steady  paths,  which  ebbs  and  flows,  a  thin,  resistless  tide, 
down  through  the  world  of  ghosts.  We  call  it  '  En.'  You 
have  no  better  word,  I  think,  than  '  Necessity.'  This  woman 
had  a  trust  and  failed.  Sometimes  the  sabre  slash  of  fatal 
weakness  lays  bare  a  hidden  source  of  strength.  I  believe 
it  to  be  so  with  her.  The  gods  have  smiled  a  ritual  of 
sacrifice !  No,  —  you  do  not  understand.  If  I  sang  an  ob- 
scene song  your  eyes  would  sparkle,  —  now  they  are  bits  of 
dull  blue  clay.  —  Onda  Yuki-ko !  "  he  said  in  another  tone, 
and  with  a  voice  slightly  raised,  "have  you  the  thought 
that,  in  winning  back  for  your  land  this  stolen  document, 
you  become  worthy  again  to  be  my  wife,  — to  bear  my 
name?  "  Yuki's  head  went  up  a  little.  If  Death  himself 
could  smile  he  would  perhaps  own  the  gleam  which  for 
an  instant  lighted  her  dark  eyes.  "Lord,  we  agree  that  I 
have  failed.  There  is  no  deeper  degradation.  As  for  re- 
suming your  name,  —  you  should  have  understood,  before 
this,  that  I  shall  not  need  it." 

Pierre  wrinkled  his  forehead.  The  three  stood.  Pierre 
leaned  against  the  edge  of  a  massive  table,  and  sometimes 
steadied  himself  with  hands  upon  it.  He  bore  upon  the 
oaken  surface  now.  The  drift  of  their  conversation,  though 
in  careful  English,  was  indeed  beyond  him.  Hagane  did  not 
menace  Yuki.  In  her  look  toward  him  was  no  hint  of  fear. 
Yet  between  them,  across  from  each  to  each,  in  all  the  space 
around  them,  the  spider  —  tragedy  —  hurried  unceasingly, 
and  wove  a  closing  web.  They  stared  out  from  the  black  net 
with  faces  of  calm  nobility.  An  influence  shook  the  French- 
man, vibrated  through  the  particles  of  his  brain,  shrank 
and  inflated  his  soul  in  its  clay  vessel.  In  bewilderment,  as 
one  reaches  out  in  the  dark,  his  voice  cried,  "  Is  this  your 
sorrow,  Yuki?  Do  you  wish  still  to  be  his?  If  you  bid 
me,  perhaps  I  too  can  sacrifice.  Shall  I  buy  his  mercy  for 
you  with  this  paper?"  He  snatched  it  out,  but  instead  of 
presenting  it,  held  the  white  rectangle  again  against  his 
breast.  The  seal  glared  and  winked  like  the  inflamed  eye 
of  a  pygmy  Cyclops. 

This  was  Pierre's  supremest  moment.     Never  again  did  he 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       379 

reach  an  equal  height.  The  altitude  turned  him  cold  and 
dizzy.  Blood  surged  in  his  ears,  and  tears  of  self -appre- 
ciation, of  self-pity,  sponged  with  a  misty  blur  the  room  and 
its  occupants. 

Yuki,  catching  her  underlip  between  her  teeth,  and  bruis- 
ing her  slim  hands  together  for  control,  went  nearer.  "  Pierre, 
I  thank  you.  I  shall  never  forget  this  greatness,  —  in  another 
world  or  this.  You  do  much  to  restore  what  you,  too,  have 
lost.  But  I  cannot  bid  you  sacrifice.  Hagane  would  not  take 
the  paper  at  that  price.  I  myself  must  find  a  way  to  win  it." 

Hagane  sat  like  a  mass  of  clay  new  fallen  from  a  cliff. 
Yuki's  voice  trailed  off.  An  angelic  sweetness  hung  about 
•the  echoes. 

Now  the  clay  was  troubled.  It  stirred  heavily.  Hagane 
rose  with  his  usual  massive  deliberation.  "  Tell  her,  French- 
man, the  price  I  had  already  offered  you." 

"I  shall  not  do  it  with  that  pure  face  before  me,  Hagane." 

Hagaue  bowed.  No  hint  of  sarcasm  cheapened  the  salu- 
tation. "Then,  Yuki,  I  must  speak  it.  I  offered  him  in  ex- 
change for  the  paper  your  fair,  white  body  to  be  his,  as  a 
dog  is  his,  as  a  snatched  blossom.  That  was  my  bargain." 

For  an  instant  she  swayed  and  leaned  one  hand  on  the  table 
opposite  from  Pierre.  Hagane  placed  a  chair  for  her.  Before 
sinking  to  it  she  spoke,  her  eyes  set  on  her  husband,  her 
voice  grave  and  contained.  "  Then,  Lord  Hagaiie,  you  have 
revealed  a  depth  of  degradation  below  the  uttermost  punish- 
ment which  I  should  have  thought  you  willing  to  bestow." 

"Also,"  continued  Hagane,  "I  ventured  to  declare,  and 
to  believe,  that  you  would  go  to  him  willingly."  Pierre 
quivered  under  this  insult  to  the  woman  he  loved.  But 
Yuki  did  not  look  ashamed.  Pushing  back  the  hair  from 
both  temples  she  bent  her  eyes  upward,  as  though  invoking 
strength  from  unseen  powers. 

"  Yes,-  Yuki,  darling,"  cried  Pierre,  coming  to  her.  "He 
will  free  you  honorably.  You  shall  be  mine  forever,  and 
we  shall  soon  forget  these  horrors  of  the  past.  I  will 
give  him  the  paper  if  you  wish  it.  What  do  I  care  for 
Konsard  or  for  France  if  I,  with  this,  can  buy  your  life- 
long happiness?" 


380  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Yuki  shivered  in  all  the  length  of  her  limbs.  Hagane 
turned  away.  His  face  could  not  be  seen  with  the  utter- 
ance of  his  next  words.  Curiously  enough  they  sounded 
apologetic. 

"It  was  the  only  way  I  saw,  Yuki,  the  only  bribe  that 
such  a  man  might  take.  Your  body,  soiled  already,  have  I 
offered.  Do  you  understand?" 

Pierre's  gaze,  too,  had  fallen.  Shame  weighed  all  lids. 
An  abnormal  silence  came  to  the  little  group.  Yuki  broke 
it  with  a  long,  long  breath,  as  of  relief  and  comprehension. 
The  men  looked  toward  her.  Hagane  clenched  a  brown  fist 
to  a  cluster  of  throbbing  veins.  But  the  Frenchman  gaped, 
incredulous,  and  gaped  again.  For  Yuki  was  smiling  at 
something  far  away.  A  light  already  not  of  earth  lay  on 
her  waxen  brow.  "  Y"es,"  she  whispered.  "Yes,  now,  at 
last,  I  understand.  You  will  not  force  the  gift,  Hagane. 
It  must  be  mine.  Why,  Pierre,  look  not  so  strange  because, 
at  last,  I  understand.  You  cannot  know  yet,  poor  Pierre, 
but  soon  you  will  know  too.  I  must  be  yours,  of  course. 
Have  you  not  planned,  and  spisd,  and  —  stolen  for  this?" 

"Yuki,"  said  Hagane,  in  a  deeply  troubled  voice,  "if  Mon- 
sieur Le  Beau  by  any  chance  should  give  the  paper  —  uncon- 
ditionally should  refuse  the  price  — 

"No!  no!"  she  cried,  with  a  quick  note  of  terror,  and 
sprang  to  her  feet  again.  "Where  would  be  my  atonement, 
my  reparation?  Think  it  not,  Lord.  See  that  your  great 
mercy  be  not  merciless.  I  shall  go,  gladly,  gladly,  to  Mon- 
sieur Le  Beau ;  my  heart  falters  not  for  myself,  —  but  him. 
It  is  a  cruel  deed  to  him." 

"And  well  deserved,"  muttered  Hagane. 

"Being  myself  weak,  Lord,"  said  the  young  wife,  "I  feel 
that  the  deserving  is,  after  all,  the  hardest  pang." 

Pierre  dashed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  and  went  to  a  small 
sideboard  for  a  liqueur.  Again  these  strange  people  were  talk- 
ing their  mystic  gibberish.  Yuki  was  more  clear,  indeed. 
She  had  stated  openly  to  her  husband  that  she  wished  to 
be  given  to  another  man.  Neither  seemed  to  feel  the  least 
delicacy  or  shame.  In  Pierre's  fastidious  thought  this  fact 
made  a  tiny  stain  for  Yuki.  The  old  brute  evidently  wanted 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       381 

to  be  rid  of  her,  and  she,  eagerly  accepting  freedom,  did  not 
shrink  from  claiming  at  once  a  more  desirable  companion- 
ship. At  the  last  moment  should  he,  Pierre,  refuse  to 
grasp  the  prize  he  had  turned  criminal  in  pursuing?  No,  a 
thousand  times  no!  Yuki's  friendless  condition  demanded 
his  deepest  pity.  It  was  with  a  faint  touch  of  condescension 
that  he  leaned  to  her,  saying,  "  Do  not  falter  now,  Yuki.  Our 
goal  is  in  sight.  I  will  be  true  to  you.  I  will  yet  make  you 
happy!" 

"Happy!  happy!"  echoed  the  woman  in  a  ghost's  voice. 
"All  foreigners  think  and  say  only  that  one  thing,  —  happy ! 
Pierre,  Pierre,  I  need  so  much  more  than  —  happiness ! " 

The  pathos  of  her  voice,  her  small  face,  touched  him  to  a 
manlier  emotion.  She  was  so  young,  so  white,  so  helpless ! 

"What  it  is  possible  for  me  to  give  you  I  live  but  to 
bestow,  my  darling,"  he  said,  and,  kneeling,  kissed  a  small, 
scarred  hand.  "I  can  promise  love,  protection,  deep  re- 
spect, —  for  the  slime  of  this  man  shall  not  cling  to  you!  " 

Hagane  snatched  him  bodily  from  the  floor.  His  eyes 
blazed  like  a  beast's.  "  Time  will  come  for  puling.  A  few 
things  are  yet  to  be  said.  Let  us  conclude  the  savory  bar- 
gain. I  must  be  gone." 

"Yes,  let  us  finish  quickly,"  whispered  Yuki. 

"Gallant  lover,"  continued  Hagane  to  Pierre,  "when  and 
how  do  you  wish  to  claim  your  prize?" 

"Now,  at  once,"  cried  Pierre,  rallying  a  little  under  the 
scorn  hurled  toward  him.  "You  have  the  eyes  of  a  demon. 
She  would  not  be  safe  alone  with  you.  Take  the  paper  now, 
and  let  me  have  her!  " 

Yuki  shivered  again,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  sleeve. 

"I  shall  not  harm  madame.  This  I  can  assure  you.  But 
the  earliest  possible  hour  for  your  ecstasy  will  be  —  to-night! " 

"  To-night  —  to-night !  "  moaned  Yuki. 

"  It  must  be  so.  You  cannot  pass  another  night  beneath 
my  roof,  and  there  is  none  who  dares  receive  you  but  this 
brawny  champion." 

"To-night!  It  is  an  eternity  away !"  cried  Pierre.  "See, 
love,  the  sun  already  is  low.  I  hear  the  moat-crows  cawing. 
To-night  we  shall  begin  to  live! " 


382  THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS 

"  Kwannon  Sama  —  oh,  dear  Saviour,  help  me  to  endure," 
said  Yuki  to  herself. 

"  To-morrow  I  join  the  army  in  Manchuria.  Whatever  is 
to  do  must  be  completed  before  the  dawn." 

"To-night!  To-night,  this  very  night!  "  sang  Pierre,  like 
a  schoolboy.  "They  called  me  sick,  but  I  am  already  a 
well  man !  That  was  a  marvellous  draught  you  gave  me  in 
the  tea-rooms,  Yuki." 

For  the  first  time  Hagane  showed  a  puzzled  frown.  Yuki 
explained  quickly.  "Oh,  I  had  forgotten  that  you  did  not 
know.  Pierre  wandered  delirious  into  our  garden  this  fore- 
noon, your  Highness,  just  after  your  instructions  to  me.  I 
could  think  of  no  way  to  send  him  off,  so  I  took  him  to  the 
Cha  no  yu  rooms  and  gave  him  a  fever  mixture  and  a  sleeping- 
draught.  I  believed  he  would  remain  asleep  until  after  the 
meeting." 

"But  I  didn't,"  laughed  Pierre.  "It  must  have  been  the 
God  of  Good  Luck  that  woke  me  when  he  did." 

"  I  tried  to  tell  your  Highness  before  the  meeting,  although 
you  had  given  me  orders  not  to  disturb  your  mind,"  went  on 
Yuki  to  her  husband  in  the  same  quiet  way.  "  Perhaps  you 
will  recall  my  effort." 

"I  do,"  said  Hagane.  "It  goes  far  to  exonerate  you.  Tell 
me  more  in  detail."  Yuki  closed  her  lips.  She  did  not  wish 
to  be  exonerated,  at  least  by  Hagane.  This  was  her  one 
supreme  opportunity  for  full  expiation,  —  for  sacrifice.  No 
one  should  wrest  it  from  her. 

"I  woke  in  good  time,"  babbled  Pierre,  to  whose  brain  the 
liquor  was  giving  a  strange  lightness.  "  I  saw  the  statesmen 
come  and  go.  They  whispered  and  leaned  down.  I  saw 
Todd,  and  Sir  Charles,  — and  Yuki  by  the  window.  I  saw 
my  Lord  Hagane  come  to  her  with  the  great  paper  in  his 
hand.  She  was  going  to  betray  poor  Pierre  to  him,  but 
first  the  great  lord  must  have  his  say.  He  told  her  of  the 
paper  —  and  then  he  made  iron  love  —  that  old  lord.  I 
could  hear  his  joints  rasp.  'Yuki,  you  are  my  wife!  When 
this  time  of  stress  and  strain  is  over  I  shall  teach  you 
something  of  a  brighter  hue  than  duty!'  Ah,  ha!  making 
love,  like  any  schoolboy !  She  never  kissed  you  as  she  has 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       383 

kissed  me,  Hagane.  Oh,  she  cared  for  me  in  the  little  tea- 
rooms. We  played  we  were  married.  Go  there;  you  will 
find  the  cushions,  the  trinkets  strewn  around,-  the  broken 
hairpin." 

A  dull  purple  tide  rushed  upward  to  Hagane's  face  and 
stayed  there.  No  battle-wounds  could  sting  and  torture 
like  the  mincing  mimicry  of  the  Frenchman's  words.  His 
control  was  superhuman.  He  leaned  an  instant  nearer  the 
fireplace  to  flip  off  a  cigarette  ash,  then  faced  his  compan- 
ions coolly.  "  I  must  remember  to  investigate  the  scene  of 
romance." 

Yuki  bowed.  If  she  had  craved  martyrdom,  here  were  as- 
suring circumstances.  Pierre's  thoughtless  words,  Hagane's 
passionate  calm,  were  prison  manacles.  They  snapped  on 
wrists  already  scarred.  She  welcomed  the  cold  compulsion. 

"Well,"  Pierre  hurried  on,  "let  us  get  back  to  business. 
To-night,  you  say?  I  agree,  but  where?" 

"Should  the  noble  count  permit  such  base  use  of  it,  the 
most  suitable  spot  would  be  your  Legation,"  said  Hagane. 

Pierre  gave  a  hiss.  His  head  was  on  fire  again.  He 
must  hurry  and  have  things  settled  before  the  full  con- 
flagration came.  "More  melodrama!  I  feel  the  sincerity 
of  your  suggestion.  Shall  1  summon  the  noble  count  to  be 
asked?  " 

"Certainly.  I  shall  await  him  here.  Kindly  hasten,  as 
the  day  already  wanes." 

Pierre  fell  back  a  little,  half  in  derision,  half  in  appre- 
hensive credulity,  like  a  harlequin  in  two  shades. 

"You  really  mean  it!  Well,  I  shall  go.  I  will  get  him  if 
he  is  to  be  brought.  He  must  come,  —  I  shall  be  in  need  of 
him.  It  is  all  a  dream,  a  fever  dream.  Will  you  give  parole 
to  stay  here  till  I  come  back,  — you  and  Yuki?"  His  bright 
eyes  shot  suspiciously  from  one  to  the  other.  There  was  still 
so  much  he  did  not  understand. 

Hagane  sighed.  He  assumed  the  expression  of  one  who 
has  had  an  insect  light  upon  him  and  whose  dignity  forbids 
him  to  brush  it  off. 

"Answer  the  Frenchman,  Yuki-ko." 

"We  will  remain,  Monsieur  Le  Beau,"  said  Yuki. 


384  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Left  alone,  the  husband  and  wife  instinctively  drew  nearer. 
After  gazing  for  a  long  moment  Hagane  suddenly  put  out 
his  hands.  Yuki  thrust  hers  within  them  and  lifted  wide 
eyes.  Her  face  had  a  look  of  blurred  moonlight.  Out  of  the 
mystic  whiteness  her  eyes  gleamed  like  deep  spiritual  wells, 
where  hopes  and  possibilities,  already  death-shadowed,  drifted 
in  a  spectral  sheen.  Hagane  tightened  his  clasp,  and  at  the 
same  instant  let  his  own  soul  come  full  into  his  face.  Yuki 
shivered.  Her  lips  parted.  Virtue  flowed  in  upon  her  from 
his  touch.  She  thought,  as  in  a  vision,  of  the  Kioto  statue 
worn  smooth  by  the  touch  of  dying  men.  What  ghostly  com- 
fort that  image  could  have  held  was  but  a  feeble  emanation 
beside  the  blinding  power  of  this  living  god. 

"All  things  are  not  yet  clear  to  me,"  said  the  man. 
"  Something  is  hidden,  and  you  jealously  conceal  the  hiding- 
place.  Yet  you  sheltered  that  spy.  You  prevented  me  from 
following.  Speak  your  whole  heart,  Yuki." 

"If  I  have  a  secret,  Lord,  it  is  one  which  aids  to  purify 
and  consecrate  my  sacrifice.  I  long  for  that  sweet  hour, 
Lord.  My  parched  spirit  strains  toward  it." 

Hagane's  lips  twitched  once.  "Yuki,  as  to  the  ear  of 
your  ancestral  gods,  tell  me,  should  this  paper  be  regained 
by  means  less  terrible,  —  are  you  worthy  to  be  my  wife?  " 

Thinking  of  her  weakness,  her  great  and  not  ignoble 
efforts  doomed  always,  it  would  seem,  to  failure,  and  with 
the  knowledge  of  this  man's  greatness  full  upon  her,  Yuki 
answered  simply,  "No."  Her  very  innocence  betrayed  her 
and  sealed  the  doom  of  death. 

Hagane  had  a  man's  thoughts.  Pierre's  boast  —  the  dis- 
ordered rooms  of  the  tea-house  —  the  broken  hairpin  — 
lashed  him  with  a  fiery  hail.  He  groaned  and  dropped  his 
face. 

"  Yuki,  Yuki !  "  came  a  voice  as  though  from  a  mangled 
soul.  "Did  you  not  begin  to  feel  it?  I  love  you!  From 
that  first  instant  in  Washington  —  I  have  loved  you 
more  dearly  than  I  ought.  The  Gods  punish  me  for  my 
infatuation ! " 

Yuki's  cheeks  grew  faintly  tinged.  "Once,  nay,  twice, 
Lord,  my  heart  bespoke  it,  but  I  dared  not  listen.  If  a 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       385 

star  had  slid  through  the  night  to  my  hand,  I  would  sooner 
believe  that  I  dreamed,  awake,  than  that  the  heavens  had 
lost  a  star." 

"A  soul  —  a  face  —  a  heart  like  thine,  Yuki  —  to  be 
befouled  by  a  Frenchman's  love!"  he  cried  in  agony. 

"Dear  Lord,"  whispered  the  girl,  "perhaps  by  suffering 
greatly  in  this  life  —  perhaps  in  my  completeness  of  expia- 
tion —  I  shall,  in  the  next  life,  be  near  thee !  " 

Hagane  could  only  groan.  The  black  spider  busied  itself 
about  them.  A  strange  stillness  fell  on  Yuki.  She  put  up 
a  hand  to  her  husband's  shoulder,  drawing  him  closer.  "My 
soul  is  like  a  quiet  pool,  my  husband.  Gaze  in,  softly,  and 
see  your  own  face  there.  Nay,  break  not  the  shining  by 
thy  tears.  You  must  help  me  to  suffer  greatly.  Let  no 
interference  come.  This  last  treachery  to  the  weak  boy 
who  has  loved  me  is  part  of  the  pain.  He  will  forgive 
me  and  forget.  He  will  even  be  happier  than  for  me  to 
live  on  as  your  wife  —  your  loved  wife!  That  is  too  heavenly 
a  thing  for  one  so  frail  as  I.  Let  me  die,  Lord,  as  you  and 
I,  though  without  speech,  have  agreed  upon.  At  last  I  shall 
serve.  Will  you  promise  to  befriend  me  to  that  hour,  my 
husband?" 

"  To  that  hour  and  beyond !  "  groaned  Hagane.  A  moment 
after,  he  said,  "Do  you  realize,  my  Yuki,  what  may  be  the 
power  of  a  soul  freed  like  yours,  —  shot  suddenly  from  the 
bowstring  of  a  fixed  purpose?  It  is  a  thunderbolt  of  the  Gods! 
Not  only  in  your  body's  death,  but  through  your  free  soul, 
after,  shall  you  aid  Nippon !  " 

The  wonder  in  her  wide  gaze  grew.  A  dawn,  it  spread 
circling  to  outer  rims  of  darkness.  Currents  of  unseen  force 
seemed  to  whirl  in  the  air  about  them. 

"  Soul  of  my  Yuki,  I  shall  summon  you  to  fields  of  death. 
Stand  near  me  in  perplexing  hours,  cleave  to  him  who  is 
to  be  thy  mate  in  a  nobler  rebirth!  Breathe  your  power 
through  me  in  moments  of  despair,  lift  up  your  voice  when 
a  thousand  guns  roar  death,  when  ghosts  spring  up  like 
flames,  and  the  commander  sobs  to  hear  the  cry  of  '  Victory!  ' 
So  shall  you  be  worthy ! " 

"  Lord !  Lord !  Already  art  thou  a  God,  and  I  thy  chosen 

25 


386  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

comrade  !     Wield  my  freed  spirit  to  our  country's  need  !    At 
last  I  shall  be  strong.     Into  thy  hands  —  Lord  —  " 

Things  of  the  flesh  flared  up  and  blew  back  forever,  like 
scraps  of  burnt  moor-grass.  The  white  flint  of  her  soul  had 
struck  from  him  its  spark  of  immortality! 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 

PIERRE'S  visible  return  was  preceded  by  a  great  chatter  of 
his  voice,  now  in  English,  again  in  French.  Evidently  he  had 
more  than  one  companion.  Hagane  and  Yuki  drew  apart. 
Pierre  stood  at  the  door  which,  with  a  wide  French  gesture,  he 
had  flung  open.  The  tall  figure  of  Minister  Todd  entered, 
followed  closely  by  Count  Ronsard.  It  was  the  latter  who 
saw  to  the  careful  closing  of  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Todd  ! "  Yuki  faltered,  under  her  breath.  Here  was 
a  new  and  terrible  trial.  Hagane  gave  her  a  glance.  He  saw 
her  slight  figure  stiffen,  and  her  face  grow  still  again.  The 
light  upon  his  stern  countenance  was  almost  as  beautiful  as 
her  own. 

Pierre  began  a  hurried  and  vaporous  explanation.  "Mr. 
Todd  was  here,  your  Highness,  as  you  were  already  aware. 
He  desired  greatly  to  come,  and  his  Excellency,  the  count, 
wished  it ! " 

"Entirely  unofficial,"  Ronsard  hastened  to  add.  "It  is  a 
personal  misunderstanding,  nothing  more.  I  have  been  assur- 
ing Mr.  Todd  that  it  is  utterly  unofficial ! " 

Todd  raised  his  thin  hand.  Reassurance  had  already  corne 
to  him.  Yuki  was  safe,  and  Hagane  had  the  look  of  an  altar- 
piece.  No  personal  harm,  at  least,  was  to  be  done.  "Before 
this  goes  one  step  further  I  want  to  say  for  myself,  that  unless 
Prince  Hagane  is  quite  willing  to  have  me,  I  leave  at  once.  I 
don't  pretend  to  understand  what  has  happened,  but  I  have 
full  faith  in  Yuki  and  her  husband.  There,  your  Highness! 
I  am  through  with  my  little  stunt.  Shall  I  strike  roots,  or 
reverse  the  throttle  ?  " 

"Unless  against  the  wishes  of  Madame  la  Priucesse,  I  desin 
you  to  remain." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse !  "  mocked  Pierre,  angrily,  under  his 
breath. 


388  THE  BEEATH  OF  THE  GODS 

Yuki's  dignity  equalled  that  of  her  husband.  "Kindly 
remain,  Mr.  Todd,"  she  murmured,  with  a  slight  bow. 

"Your  Highness,"  said  Todd,  still  addressing  Hagane, 
"now  tell  us  how  many  grains- of  wheat  are  in  this  chaff  of 
foolishness  Pierre  is  giving  us  !  Something  about  your  going 
to  send  my  little  Yuki  off  like  a  piece  of  broken  china,  for 
him,  Le  Beau,  to  patch  together  at  his  leisure.  Pshaw !  Of 
course  the  boy  is  out  of  his  head ! " 

Hagane  thought  deeply  before  he  made  reply.  His  sobriety 
and  deliberation  gave  unusual  weight  to  speech  always  im- 
pressive. Each  word  was  a  nail  driven  straight  into  the  lid  of 
an  abandoned  hope. 

"Madame  la  Princesse  has  offended  in  a  way  peculiarly 
Japanese,  —  difficult,  I  think,  —  too  difficult  even  for  your 
sympathy  and  kindness  to  comprehend.  There  is  no  need  to 
dwell  upon  it.  She  leaves  me  of  her  own  free  will.  She  and 
I  understand  each  other  perfectly.  That  is  all!  We  shall 
detain  you  two  gentlemen  but  a  moment." 

"Entirely  unofficial,  your  Excellency  will  observe,"  whis- 
pered Ronsard,  nervously,  to  the  American. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  made  that  much  out  for  myself/'  said  Todd  to 
Hagaiie.  "If  you  intend  to  separate,  it  is  deplorable,  but 
clearly  none  of  my  business.  It 's  the  other  heinous  sugges- 
tion, that  of  handing  her  over  to  another  man,  that  makes 
me  hot  in  the  collar.  Don't  tell  me  I  must  believe  this  of 
your  Highness !  " 

Neither  Hagane's  eyes  nor  voice  faltered.  "The  man, 
Monsieur  Le  Beau,  has  a  service  to  perform  for  Japan.  He 
asks  a  certain  price.  Yuki  alone  can  pay  that  price." 

"It  is  simple  enough,  Mr.  Todd,"  Pierre  burst  in.  The 
discussion  went  in  a  direction  distasteful  to  him.  He  did  not 
wish  the  matter  of  the  paper,  and  its  means  of  acquirement, 
laid  bare.  "I  can  do  the  prince  a  service.  For  it,  Yuki 
becomes  my  own,  as  from  the  beginning  she  should  have  been. 
This  little  talisman  merely  rights  the  mistakes  of  Fortune." 
He  held  out  the  document,  shaking  it  to  attract  attention. 

"  The  very  paper  I  helped  to  sign,  this  day  !  "  said  Todd, 
wondering.  "  What,  in  the  name  of  Beelzebub,  are  you  doing 
with  it  ?  Hagane  was  to  guard  it  with  his  life !  There  's 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       389 

something  queer  in  this.  I  smell  foul  play  !  Did  Yuki,  — 
could  Yuki  have  —  ?"  He  checked  himself,  reddening  at  the 
baseness  of  his  quick  suspicion.  Yuki,  facing  him,  gave  no 
answering  flush.  She  was  white,  —  white  beyond  belief  in  a 
thing  that  lived  at  all.  Her  low  voice  gave  each  syllable  full 
measure.  "I  was  partly  —  to  blame  —  that  Monsieur  Le 
Beau  secured  that  paper.  I  shall  pay  his  price." 

Todd's  eyes  still  hung  on  her,  fascinated,  incredulous.  He 
could  not  believe  her  capable  of  vileness.  He  knew  that  no 
depth  of  personal  degradation  could  begin  to  compare,  in  the 
Japanese  mind,  with  an  offence  against  loyalty.  It  was  to 
them,  truly,  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  Yet,  by  her  own 
words,  Yuki  was  condemned.  His  stung  thought  flashed  to 
Pierre,  and  fastened  on  him.  "Then,  man,  it  is  a  double 
wrong !  I  do  not  know  yet  how  you  got  the  thing ;  but  if 
she  is  implicated,  you  owe  it  to  her,  far  more  than  yourself, 
to  be  decent !  In  the  name  of  morality,  —  of  honor,  —  do  not 
sell  the  thing ;  give  it  back  without  condition !  Your  propo- 
sition is  damnable ! " 

"  His  Excellency  Mr.  Todd  was  one  who  signed  the  paper ; 
he  pleads  for  its  return,"  murmured  Eonsard  to  the  air. 

"  Never  mind  that !  "  flashed  Todd.  "  The  paper  does  n't 
trouble  me  a  little  bit !  I  am  thinking  of  Yuki !  " 

"But  —  Mr.  Todd  —  Yuki,  she  wish  to  pay  that  price. 
She  wish  to  be  given  —  so  —  to  Monsieur!  "  said  the  Princess 
Hagane. 

Pierre  flashed  a  look  of  triumph  into  Todd's  dazed  eyes. 
Defiantly  he  went  to  Yuki,  caught  her  hand,  and  kissed  it. 
"  You  see  and  hear  her  for  yourself  ! "  vaunted  Pierre.  Todd 
appealed  dumbly  to  Hagane  for  extrication  from  this  amazing 
skein  of  tangled  interests.  Hagane  brooded  on  his  wife  with 
tenderness,  —  with  the  ache  of  love,  —  as  over  a  dying  child. 
Yuki  drew  her  hand  from  Pierre  and  went  to  the  minister. 
"Don't  try  to  understand,"  she  urged  him,  piteously,  "don't 
defend  me !  You  cannot  understand,  —  not  even  Gwen- 
dolen could  understand ! "  She  caught  her  breath  sharply, 
with  a  new  and  untried  pang,  "  Oh,  Gwendolen,  my  dear 
one!"  she  moaned,  "I  had  forgotten  you.  Gwendolen  — 
Gwendolen !  " 


390  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

"If  I  might  be  allowed  to  say  a  word  iii  behalf  of  France," 
ventured  Ronsard,  hesitatingly. 

"Your  Excellency,"  interrupted  Pierre,  "let  us  have  no 
further  discussion.  I  cannot  be  interfered  with,  even  by  you. 
The  thing  is  done  !  I  have  agreed !  Prince  Hagane  protects 
us  all !  All  are  satisfied.  Cela!  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  echoed  Yuki.     "Everything  is  settled!  " 

"  Here  's  one  thing  that  is  n't!  "  flared  out  Todd.  "  I  say  to 
you  men,  French  and  Japanese  alike,  damn  you  for  a  set  of 
cold-blooded,  fanatical  politicians!  Out  of  the  bunch  I  respect 
—  no,  I  despise  a  little  less,  Le  Beau,  for  though  an  egoist  and 
a  fool,  he  is  at  least  on  fire  with  love.  As  for  you  two  states- 
men, there 's  something  rotten  in  your  refrigerators  !  I  know 
what  Le  Beau  has  to  sell,  of  course ;  and  it  is  not  worth  the 
sacrifice  of  this  poor  shivering  child  !  Ronsard,  speak  up  for 
France,  without  permission  or  apology.  Where  is  your  honor, 
where  that  little  cross  with  the  red  ribbon,  that  you  stand  by 
and  see  this  wedge  of  opportunity  driven  by  a  boy's  lust  into 
sand ! " 

"Your  Excellency!"  thundered  Hagane.  "Though  you 
signed  the  paper,  it  is  not  yours.  I  claim  it  —  for  Nippon! 
I  alone  am  responsible  !  " 

Yuki  cowered  an  instant,  pressing  both  hands  against  her 
ears,  then  she  rallied,  and  crying,  "Do  not  interfere, — it  is 
Hagane's  concern  and  mine,"  went  up  to  Todd,  and  seized  his 
arm.  for  emphasis.  He  pushed  her  off.  "  It  may  be  Hagane's 
business,  but  I  make  it  mine  !  God  !  These  are  not  the  Dark 
Ages.  I'm  not  the  man  to  stand  aside  and  have  a  woman 
burned  at  the  stake  of  political  exigency.  I  '11  turn  traitor  my- 
self !  I  '11  tell  the  purport  of  the  paper  !  I  '11  wire  my  resig- 
nation to  Washington  next  day !  But  I  won't  keep  still !  "  His 
lean  figure  flashed  with  indignation  like  a  gleam  that  plays 
along  an  unsheathed  sword. 

Yuki,  wheeling  back  to  him  with  incredible  swiftness,  caught 
down  the  upraised  hand,  and  strained  it  to  her  breast.  She 
threw  herself  against  him,  praying,  it  would  seem,  for  eternal 
life.  "Oh,  my  friend,  you  are  noble,  but  you  make  the  ter- 
rible mistake !  You  will  kill  my  soul,  which  has  but  just 
come  alive.  Let  me  go  to  Pierre,  as  is  now  planned.  You 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       391 

think,  maybe,  that  I  do  some  great  sacrifice  for  my  country, 
like  that  good  girl,  Jeanne  d'Arc.  But  you  think  too  high. 
I  am  bad !  I  am  the  cat !  I  have  no  love  for  Nippon  or  for 
Hagane !  No,  I  have  the  one  wish  now,  —  to  go  to  Pierre  — 
to  Pierre !  I  was  close  to  him  a  moment,  and  now  you  come 
to  drag  me  away.  Keep  me  not  from  Pierre  ! " 

Todd  scrutinized  her  from  between  stiffening,  half-closed  eye- 
lids. The  gathering  corner-wrinkles  had  the  effect  of  sparks. 
"  It 's  no  good,  Yuki !  "  he  said  quietly.  "  It  don't  work  a  little 
bit !  I  've  known  you  too  long!  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  is  bad,  very  bad !  You  did  n't  know,  of  course 
not!  I  was  sly  to  hide  every  things.  Pierre  and  I  have 
arrange  so  that,  in  spite  of  cruel  father,  and  Prince  Hagane 
and  all,  we  comes  together  at  last !  Ah,  push  me  off  again  !  " 
she  cried  convulsively.  "  That  is  right !  I  care  not  if  I  lose 
you,  and  Mrs.  Todd,  and  Gwendolen,  and  my  good  name,  — 
everything !  if  only  I  can  go  to  Pierre  this  night !  Just  let 
me  do  what  I  wish,  as  all  have  agree  but  you.  Try  not  to 
prevent ! " 

At  the  wild  light  in  her  eyes,  the  impassioned  ring  of  her 
voice,  Todd,  his  faith  for  the  moment  quailing,  had  pushed  her 
off  a  few  shuddering  inches.  She  clung  still  to  his  hand.  By 
this  he  drew  her  near  again,  and  probed.  Before  his  first 
word,  she  must  have  surmised  the  change,  for  she  swayed  in 
his  hold,  shuddered  violently,  closed  her  lids,  and  let  her  lips 
form  a  few  dumb  words  of  prayer. 

"  Yuki ! "  Todd  began,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  the  others 
scarcely  heard.  "  Yuki,  this  is  a  part  you  are  playing.  Eter- 
nity is  your  stage,  and  tragedy  your  curtain.  The  room 
smells  of  it.  You  are  not  bad.  You  harbor  now  a  heroic 
design.  I  cannot  understand,  but  I  believe  it  to  be  supreme ! 
Before  God,  look  into  my  eyes,  and  tell  me  the  truth.  I  will 
not  betray  you !  " 

She  lifted  calmly,  now,  the  great,  dark  orbs.  He  gazed 
down  into  them,  to  the  thought  that  lay,  like  a  white  rock,  in 
the  clear  depths.  In  absolute  moments  the  human  soul  has  a 
speech  of  its  own  and  an  ear  to  listen.  Her  lips  moved  no 
more.  She  was  not  conscious  of  further  effort  to  make  him 
see.  Without  grosser  statement,  knowledge  came  to  him. 


392  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

This  life  of  earth  already  had  lost  its  hold  on  her,  —  Pierre 
was  less  than  a  shadow  on  a  stream.  Todd  knew  that  she 
was  to  die, — that  the  discarded  shell  of  the  thing  he  loved 
would  be  Pierre's  prize.  By  the  same  ghostly  prescience 
Hagane  knew  that  certainty  had  laid  her  cold  touch  upon  the 
American.  He  averted  quickly  his  dark  face  from  the  sight. 
Ronsard,  who  was  nearest,  saw  a  mighty  shudder  blow  upon 
him ;  then  the  face,  now  twitching,  lifted  toward  the  light. 
His  lips  moved.  Ronsard  could  not  surmise  the  trend  of  the 
broken,  muttered  words ;  but  Yuki,  who  had  neither  heard  nor 
seen,  knew  that  he  was  praying. 

Todd  loosed  the  girl's  hand  now,  not  in  rebuke,  but  as  one 
incapable  of  sustaining  longer  the'  fragile  burden.  The  alert- 
ness, the  eagerness  went  from  him.  All  at  once  he  was  a 
middle-aged  man.  "  And  I  must  stand  by  and  do  —  nothing ! " 
he  whispered,  half  to  himself,  half  to  her. 

"Oh,  you  can  still  do  much.  You  can  believe  in  me,  —  and 
Gwendolen  will  not  need  to  scorn  me.  I  will  thank  you 
always,  if  only  for  what  you  have  just  understood." 

"  Come  !  "  said  Hagane,  sharply.  "  A  woman's  endurance 
has  a  limit.  The  paper,  please,  Monsieur  Le  Beau." 

Ronsard  touched  Pierre's  arm.  "  Not  until  you  have  received 
your  price." 

"  When  Yuki  comes  to  me  to-night,  and  not  before,"  said 
Pierre,  valiantly.  He  was  pleased  with  the  sound  of  his  own 
bravado. 

Yuki  threw  a  piteous  glance  toward  her  husband.  "  Then 
shall  I  accompany,  now  ?  I  think  I  can  do  all,  alone." 

Hagane  did  not  answer  her.  He  held  Pierre  in  a  hard  gaze. 
"  To-night  ?  "  he  questioned.  "  How  can  I  be  sure  that  the 
seal  will  be  intact  ?  " 

"Sir!"  said  Pierre,  indignantly,  "your  suggestion  is  an 
insult ! " 

"Ah !  do  thieves  who  enter  other  men's  homes  to  rob  them 
still  wave  the  flag  of  honor  ?  "  Pierre  drew  back,  flushed  and 
scowling,  with  a  muttered  curse.  Todd  gave  a  great  start.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  heard  the  specific  charge.  How 
then,  if  Pierre  were  a  mere  common  thief,  could  Yuki  be 
involved  ?  Again  he  was  baffled.  He  shook  his  head  sadly, 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       393 

and  kept  silence.  Hagane  had  begun  to  speak  again.  "  I  am 
willing  to  refer  the  matter  to  arbitration,  but  shall  not  con- 
sent to  the  document  remaining  here.  Let  it  be  put  into  the 
hands  of  a  third  party,  until  to-night." 

"  Yes,"  said  Yuki,  eagerly.  "  Mr.  Todd  will  keep  it.  All 
trust  him ! " 

Pierre  and  Eonsard  exchanged  apprehensive  glances.  To 
refuse  was  impossible.  "An  —  an  —  excellent  plan,"  said 
Ronsard,  with  a  watery  beam.  "But,  since  Russia  is  our 
ally  —  " 

"  Utterly  unofficial,  you  know.  A  purely  personal  mis- 
understanding," reminded  Todd,  not  without  a  gleam  of 
malice.  "  In  your  present  attitude,  Count  Ronsard,  you  can 
scarcely  claim  anything  further.  France's  honor  hardly  rests 
on  —  felony !  I  am  willing  to  hold  it ;  and,  if  the  prince 
should  fail  to  drive  in  the  sacrificial  lamb,  otherwise  Yuki, 
France  gets  the  paper,  I  presume." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Hagane,  and  Ronsard  in  a  breath. 

"Only,"  interpolated  Yuki,  in  her  low,  clear  voice,  "no 
sacrificial  lamb  is  to  be  driven,  your  Excellency,  —  only  a 
woman  gaining  her  soul's  desire." 

Pierre  triumphed  in  glances  about  the  room.  Couldn't 
the  fool  American  see  that  Yuki  was  simply  dying  to  get 
away  from  old  Hagane  and  come  to  him  !  Why  this  continued 
talk  of  sacrifice  ?  It  sounded  like  the  Japanese  themselves. 
Pierre  sent  an  ardent,  encouraging  look  to  the  girl.  To  his 
surprise,  her  face  was  set  steadily  upon  Hagane,  and  in  his 
answering  gaze  was  the  same  embarrassing  rapture. 

"  Well,"  said  Todd,  sharply,  "ami  to  keep  the  paper  or  not  ?  " 

"My  dear  colleague,"  stuttered  Ronsard,  paddling  the  air 
with  gestures  of  concession,  "  of  course,  in  your  keeping  it  is 
as  safe  as  —  say  —  in  my  private  desk.  Pierre  !  —  "  There 
was  a  sharp  tang  to  the  name. 

The  young  man  reluctantly  handed  the  envelope  to  Todd. 
He  took  it  with  a  crooked  smile.  Hagane  and  Yuki  remained 
calm  as  statues. 

"  Madame,"  the  host  said,  with  fictitious  gayety,  "  perhaps, 
as  a  matter  of  delicacy,  congratulations  are  not  in  order ;  yet 
allow  me  to  assure  you  of  my  good-will  and  homage  ! ' 


394  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Yuki  met  his  look.  Her  face  was  still  expressionless,  like 
a  Japanese  painting  of  a  high-born  lady  where  repose  is  the 
desired  essential.  Something  underlying  the  white  calm 
disturbed  him.  After  her  few  gentle  words,  "I  thank  your 
Excellency,"  he  was  glad  to  turn  away. 

"  To-night  at  eight,"  said  Hagane,  moving  toward  the  door. 
"  Can  all  be  present  at  eight  ?  " 

The  three  men  bowed  gravely.  Ronsard  for  once  had  for- 
gotten etiquette.  He  was  allowing  his  visitors  to  leave  alone. 
Yuki,  with  no  further  look  for  Pierre,  prepared  to  follow  her 
husband,  but  Todd  came  to  himself  with  a  queer,  choking 
little  sound.  In  two  long  strides  he  overtook  her. 

"  Yuki,  —  how  can  I  stand  it  ?  You  are  like  my  other 
child !  I  am  in  a  bed  of  nettles,  and  you  have  tied  my  hands  ! 
I  have  agreed  to  take  this  paper  chiefly  on  the  hope  that  I  may 
stir  Le  Beau  to  a  nobler  issue.  You  must  agree,  — you  must 
—  to  a  less  awful  price." 

Yuki's  lifted  face  was  whiter  now  than  any  death,  but  some- 
how, under  the  icy  surface  a  flower  was  frozen.  "  Pierre  will 
not  agree,  because  I  have  said  I  wish  to  go  to  him.  You  have 
understood  the  Japanese  heart  strangely  ;  but  even  yet,  — 
there  are  spaces  you  have  not  dreamed.  I  pray  God  for  you 
to  fail,  dear  Mr.  Todd,  but  I  ask  his  blessing  on  your  kindness. 
Give  to  those  dear  ones  at  your  home,  my  Sayouara,  and  my 
undying  love ! " 

Todd  writhed  as  if  stung  by  an  unseen  serpent.  "  And  yet, 
within  my  bounds  of  confidence  and  honor, .  I  must  reason 
with  Pierre,  must  speak  more  fully  with  Ronsard  ! " 

"  I  trust  you  utterly,"  said  Yuki,  as  she  faded  through  the 
doorway. 

Ronsard,  recalled  perhaps  by  the  mention  of  his  name, 
hurried  forward  now,  and  accompanied  the  noble  guests  to  the 
portico.  Left  together,  Pierre  and  Todd  eyed  each  other. 
On  the  younger,  more  beautiful  face,  vanity  and  self-satis- 
faction were  spread  as  scented  unguents.  The  hour  was  his. 
He  had  triumphed !  Yuki,  in  spite  of  all  these  grave  men, 
was  to  be  his  own.  Oh,  he  would  make  her  happy  ! 

It  is  said  that  the  colorless  color  '  white '  is  merely  a  cunning 
admixture  of  all  hues.  In  the  same  way,  the  iridescent  strug- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       395 

gle  of  contempt,  pity,  incredulity,  disapprobation,  whirling 
together  in  the  American's  mind,  coalesced  into  blankness, 
—  the  consciousness  of  a  situation  hopeless,  irremediable. 
Without  a  word  or  exclamation  he  sank  to  the  nearest  chair, 
put  his  long,  lean  arms  out  upon  the  table,  and  laid  his  face 
upon  them.  So  the  two  men  remained,  until  the  heavy  foot- 
steps of  Eonsard  came  back  into  the  hall,  —  until  he  entered, 
and,  casting  an  eye  on  the  prostrate  form,  asked  of  Pierre,  in 
a  whisper,  "  Is  his  Excellency  ill  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Pierre,  irritably.  "He  is  not,  but  I  am.  No- 
body seems  to  think  of  the  strain  I  've  been  under  all  this 
time.  With  your  permission,  Excellency,  I  '11  have  one  of 
the  servants  telephone  for  a  physician.  This  hellish  fever 
is  on  me  again.  I  must  keep  my  reason  until  this  night  is 
over ! " 

Rousard,  without  answering,  waddled  to  a  chair,  moved  his 
short  legs  outward,  and  let  the  attraction  of  gravitation  do  the 
rest.  The  room  shook  with  the  impact,  jangling  empty  cups 
and  glasses  on  the  table.  He  drew  out  a  silken  handkerchief, 
and  with  it  odors  of  violet  and  vervain. 

"  Oui,  oui,"  he  made  answer  at  length,  "  have  your  phy- 
sician. You  will  need  him  before  you  are  through.  And 
when  the  servant  comes,  kindly  order  tea,  sandwiches,  coffee, 
liqueurs,  anything  which  may  strengthen.  Bah  !  It  is  vaude- 
ville tragedy !  "  He  settled  himself  with  grunts  and  short 
groans  of  distaste.  Todd  was  deliberately  overlooked.  The 
silent  form  gave  both  observers  a  sense  of  uneasiness. 

Pierre's  orders  given,  strength  suddenly  deserted  him.  He 
went  to  a  couch,  where  pillows  in  Japanese  brocades  were 
heaped.  "With  your  permission,  gentlemen,"  he  muttered. 
He  threw  himself  down  upon  his  back,  bending  his  head 
upward  into  the  soft  squares,  until  the  profile  was  drawn  thin 
and  clear,  as  that  of  a  mediaeval  figure  on  a  tomb.  All  day 
long,  ever  since  his  escape  from  the  hospital  (and  could  it  be 
possible  that  his  flight  had  taken  place  since  dawn  of  this 
very  day?),  illness  had  toyed  with  him  as  a  jungle  tiger  with 
its  prey,  letting  him  go  free  for  a  moment,  only  to  spring  back, 
fastening  deeper  claws.  Now  the  fever  held  him,  and  moved 
like  a  tumultuous  sea  across  which  was  hung  a  molten,  blind- 


396  THE   BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

ing  sheet  of  brass.  Down  in  the  valleys  of  the  waves  it  was 
dark,  and  cold,  and  terrible.  Sea-creatures  grimaced  at  him, 
holding  out  long,  wavering  arms.  Oh,  the  valleys  were  terri- 
ble indeed !  But  up  on  the  swelling  crest  was  far  worse,  for 
there  he  burned.  Sometimes  his  brain  went  wild  in  the  tor- 
ment of  flame.  His  lips  blistered  and  cracked.  Once,  when 
he  threw  a  hand  suddenly  upward,  a  pink  finger-nail  split  to 
the  flesh.  The  intervals  had  a  rhythm,  a  relentless,  horrible 
recurrence.  He  knew  in  anticipation  the  agony  of  each  moment 
just  before  it  came.  Now,  —  now  he  was  beginning  to  rise, 
to  be  borne  up  from  the  liquid,  icy  trough  toward  a  plane  of 
fire.  He  groaned  aloud,  and  cowered.  Soft  footsteps  went 
around  the  room.  Porcelain  or  some  such  brittle  substance 
went  clashing  gently.  To  him  it  was  as  shells  of  the  sea, 
caught  up  with  him  in  the  wave ;  caught  up  from  slimy  depths, 
like  him ;  torn  from  a  nether  world  of  cold  despair  and  whirled 
upward,  as  he  was  being  whirled !  Soon  they  would  crack, 
too,  and  the  pretty  colors  be  burned  and  blackened.  A  voice 
came  out  of  the  water.  It  sounded  like  Ronsard's  voice. 
"  Look  at  the  young  Monsieur !  Diable  !  Fever  is  gaining. 
I  would  he  were  safely  back  in  the  hospital." 

"Then  why  not  take  the  responsibility  of  sending  him 
there  ?  "  drawled  the  American's  voice,  —  that  thin,  nasal,  self- 
confident  voice  that  Pierre  hated,  It  lashed  now,  like  sea- 
nettles,  in  his  face. 

Pierre  writhed,  and  tried  to  toss  aside  the  pillows.  "  I 
won't  go  back!  You  need  not  plan !  You  cannot  force  me ! " 
lie  tried  to  scream.  His  parched  lips  opened.  A  hissing 
noise  came  from  his  throat.  He  thought  he  had  really 
screamed  the  words,  but  the  quiet,  uninterrupted  flow  of  con- 
versation behind  the  wall  of  the  wave  convicted  him  terri- 
bly of  delusion.  He  gnashed  his  teeth,  struggling  to  rise. 

"  Good  God !  "  cried  Todd,  reaching  him  at  a  bound.  u  The 
man  is  in  convulsions.  A  doctor,  quick,  or  he  '11  die  here  ! " 

Ronsard  pressed  a  bell  in  frantic  haste,  and  sent  all  the 
Legation  servants  forth  in  search  of  physicians,  warning 
each  to  go  in  an  individual  direction.  As  a  natural  con- 
sequence, they  went  in  a  frightened  phalanx.  Police-officers, 
seeing  the  confusion,  hurried  in.  Everywhere  was  dismay 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       397 

and  disorganization.  Todd  alone  retained  a  little  judgment, 
giving  the  sick  man  ammonia  to  smell,  and  bathing  his  fore- 
head with  cold  water. 

It  was  a  young  American  practitioner  who  first  gained 
the  house.  Had  it  been  a  German  (of  whom  there  are  sev- 
eral of  world-wide  reputation  resident  in  Tokio),  he,  in 
behalf  of  his  reputation,  —  not  to  mention  common  sense, 
would  certainly  have  insisted  upon  sending  the  invalid  back 
to  Yokohama,  where,  indubitably,  he  belonged.  The  Amer- 
ican being  younger,  more  imaginative,  and  with  less  reputa- 
tion to  jeopardize,  might  lend  himself  the  more  readily  to  the 
unusual.  Konsard  and  Todd,  each  in  his  own  way,  — both, 
of  course,  intensely  desirous  of  getting  Pierre  safely  in  hos- 
pital walls,  — nevertheless  advanced  persuasions  to  keep  him 
away  from  the  desirable  haven  until  the  following  morning. 
The  physician  was  evidently  puzzled  by  the  presence  of  con- 
flicting motives.  As  a  final  statement  of  his  own  position, 
he  said,  "  I  insist  that  you  gentlemen  recognize  the  measures 
I  must  employ  to  give  him  an  interval  of  strength  and  lucid- 
ity must  take  away  at  least  fifty  per  cent  of  the  patient's 
chances  of  recovery !  " 

Todd  answered  for  both.  "  We  understand.  It  is  the  dick- 
ens of  a  thing  for  us  to  have  to  decide  on ;  yet,  since  the 
man,  if  in  his  senses,  would  consider  us  traitors  to  shut  him 
up  before  eight  to-night,  I  don't  see  anything  else  but  to  let 
you  dose  him  until  that  time." 

"Exactly,"  corroborated  the  French  minister. 

"And,  doctor,"  added  Todd,  in  a  slightly  embarrassed  tone, 
"it  is  a  mess.  We  can't  explain.  Mum's  the  word,  you 
know." 

"Oh,  I  knew  before  you  told  me,"  said  the  young  doctor. 
Then  he  went  to  work. 

An  hour  later  Pierre,  gasping,  and  pouring  out  from  his 
entire  frame  the  very  sap  of  vitality,  still  lay  on  the  sofa,  his 
fever  gone,  his  mind  clear,  uplifted,  pellucid,  as  it  had  been 
on  awakening  in  Yuki's  tea-rooms  three  hours  before. 

The  doctor  had  departed.  Neither  Todd  nor  the  French 
minister  had  left  the  room.  The  two  politicians  tacitly  un- 
derstood that  neither  trusted  the  other,  yet,  strange  to  say, 


398  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

neither  resented  it.  The  issue  at  stake  was  too  big  for  per. 
sonal  irritation.  In  the  reaction  of  his  excitement  Todd 
pondered  anew,  with  ever  deepening  foreboding,  upon  the 
thing  that  Yuki's  eyes  had  told  him.  Ronsard,  overflowing 
in  his  cushioned  chair,  brooded  of  France  and  her  already 
humiliated  ally,  Russia. 

"Le  Beau,"  said  Todd,  at  length,  rising  and  walking  in 
the  direction  of  the  sofa,  "you're  too  sick  a  man  to  be 
pounded  by  all  the  arguments  I  have  been  getting  together 
for  you,  but  there  are  just  a  few  things  I  must  say,  and 
which  his  Excellency  Count  Ronsard  here  should  hear  me 
say." 

"Speak,"  said  Pierre,  languidly;  "it  will  make  no  differ- 
ence at  all,  Monsieur,  but  I  shall  listen." 

"  I  want  you  to  return  that  paper  quietly,  as  a  gentleman 
should,  and  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  the  hospital,  as  a  ra- 
tional being  should.  You  are  precipitating  a  crisis  that  Na- 
poleon in  his  best  days  might  shrink  from,  and  you  are  too 
ill  to  stand  on  your  feet.  You  don't  know  yet  what  you 
are  doing.  Rely  on  stronger  men,  just  now,  and  in  all  your 
future  life  you  will  thank  God  that  you  listened !  " 

Pierre  shifted  his  position  slightly  and  tried  to  smile. 
Ronsard  placed  himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  couch.  His 
eyes  held  Todd.  "Before  Pierre  tries  to  answer,  it  is  but 
right  to  him,  to  France,  that  I  should  speak,  your  Excel- 
lency." He  went  close  to  Pierre  and  touched  him.  "Pierre, 
I  urge,  with  all  the  fervor,  all  the  loyalty,  all  the  passion  of 
a  son  of  France,  that  you  give  up  —  not  the  paper ;  that  is 
ours,  —  but  the  woman.  None  but  a  coward  and  a  sensualist 
would  sell  away  from  his  country  a  paper  which  commands  so 
terrible  a  price." 

"I  am  impaled  upon  the  diameter  of  widely  differing 
opinions,"  said  Pierre,  sarcastically. 

Todd's  next  words  were  very  quiet.  They  were  addressed 
to  Ronsard.  "  The  advice  of  your  Excellency  is  both  just 
and  creditable.  You  speak  as  a  diplomat;  I  merely  as  a  man. 
I  know  what  was  in  the  paper,  and  I  know  also  that  a  man's 
honor,  that  nameless,  indescribable  essence  which  makes 
him  a  man,  once  blackened,  with  the  stain  eaten  in,  can  never 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       399 

be  brightened.  Pierre  has  but  an  hour  or  two  to  change 
himself  from  a  low  thief  to  a  man.  Give  up  the  paper, 
Pierre,  and  save  the  woman  you  say  you  love!" 

"Bah!"  Ronsard  interrupted  with  a  rudeness  the  others 
scarcely  had  believed  possible  to  him ;  "  you  accuse  French- 
men of  sentimentality,  Mr.  Todd.  What  is  this  desire  of 
yours  but  sentiment,  false  sentiment,  puerile,  absurd  ?  You 
spur  the  boy's  honor  in  order  to  save  a  woman  who  prob- 
ably does  not  wish  to  be  saved.  You  play  upon  him !  I 
see  a  tear  in  his  youthful  eye.  He  thinks  of  Madame,  de- 
serted, —  in  need  of  comfort!  Who  should  condole  with  her 
but  he  ?  Pouf !  If  you  yearn  to  be  a  hero,  Pierre,  make  of 
that  very  desire  a  nobler  sacrifice  for  France !  Break  your 
heart  if  you  will,  but  with  the  shattered  fragments  trace  the 
name  of  France !  Upon  this  paper  that  you  hold,  the  future 
of  a  great  war  may  hang.  It  has  written  instructions,  — 
values,  —  perhaps  a  secret  treaty.  Think  what  it  may  mean, 
not  only  to  our  own  land,  to  Russia,  but  to  you!"  He 
leaned  to  finger  a  little  red  ribbon  dangling  from  a  cigar-box 
on  the  table.  Pierre's  eyes  shot  a  dull  gleam.  "When 
Hagane  comes,  defy  him,  —  break  your  word,  retain  the 
paper,  but  give  back  the  wife  he  so  easily  discards ! " 

Pierre  had  fallen  back  in  his  pillows.  "You  don't  know 
what  you  are  talking  of,  — neither  knows,"  he  said,  tossing 
his  head  feverishly.  "You  will  set  my  veins  on  fire  again 
with  your  chatter.  Yuki,  Hagane  and  I  understand  each 
other  — "  he  broke  off  with  a  querulous  gesture. 

Todd  had  begun  to  bristle.  Sneers  were  rare  to  him, 
but  now  his  lean  face  assumed  one.  He  caught  up  the  red 
ribbon  which  Ronsard  had  let  fall,  and  cried  to  him,  "  You 
scorned  the  motive  of  honor,  of  pity  for  a  woman,  yet  wave 
the  red  flag  of  personal  ambition.  Pierre,  can  you  not  see 
for  yourself  how  flimsy  is  his  argument?  You  think  you 
understand  Yuki  and  her  husband,  but  you  do  not.  A  terrific 
tragedy  hangs  over  us  all.  I  insist,  I  implore  you,  Pierre, 
try  to  reason  this  out  for  yourself,  not  as  a  Frenchman,  a 
lover,  or  a  diplomat,  but  just  as  a  man,  —  a  man,  and  what 
makes  him  a  man,  with  a  little  fuse  of  God  sputtering  in 
him,  and  not  an  animal  minus  the  fuse,  made  up  of  intellect, 


400  THE  BREATH   OF   THE   GODS 

tastes,  and  inclinations !  Think  of  that  shivering,  white-faced 
girl,  —  that  Oriental  Jeanne  d' Arc  who  faced  us  all  so 
bravely  an  hour  ago.  I  tell  you,  man,  if  you  loved  her 
decently,  you  would  turn  sick  at  the  thought  of  receiving  her 
at  the  hands  of  her  lawful  husband.  Boy,  try  to  think  for 
once  in  your  life  of  some  one  besides  yourself,  —  and  may 
God  have  mercy  on  you  and  my  little  Yuki." 

His  voice  broke  on  the  last  word.  Ronsard  jerked  his 
body,  and  gave  a  low  sound  of  irritation.  Pierre  flared  up 
into  feeble  passion. 

"And  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Todd,  that  you  talk  nonsense  !  I 
have  thought  of  Yuki,  — only  Yuki  !  I  think  now  of  no  one 
but  Yuki.  I  too  pitied  her,  and  did  what  I  could.  I  offered 
to  give  the  paper  back  into  her  hands,  with  the  one  condi- 
tion that  Hagane  should  pardon  what  he  fancies  her  offence 
and  should  receive  her  back  openly  as  his  wife.  They  both 
refused  ! " 

"  You  did  what  ?  Hagane  refused  what  ?  "  exclaimed  Todd. 
He  thought  that  the  fever  was  again  upon  its  victim.  Ron- 
sard  looked  concerned  and  felt  Pierre's  white  forehead.  He 
met  their  eyes  triumphantly.  He  was  pleased  at  the  effect 
of  his  words.  Something  in  his  boyish  face  impressed  the 
diplomats  with  the  truth  of  the  unbelievable  statement  just 
made.  "Now,  perhaps  you  will  let  me  alone  for  a  while,"  he 
said  disdainfully,  and  turned  his  back. 

The  elder  men  exchanged  glances  of  dismay,  and  by  a 
common  impulse  left  the  couch.  Pierre  felt  himself  again 
a  conqueror.  His  words,  like  a  querulous  barking,  followed 
them.  "I  really  do  not  feel  able  to  endure  more  talk,  or 
more  tobacco-smoke,  just  now,  gentlemen.  The  doctor  said 
I  must  have  sleep  before  to-night.  If  I  could  only  sleep  ! 
After  a  fine  deep  sleep  I  should  be  strong  again,  the  doctor 
said  it  !  But  they  will  not  let  me  alone,  —  they  talk  and 
argue,  but  they  are  ignorant.  Yuki  and  I  understand  each 
other."  With  little  childish,  spasmodic  movements  he  settled 
himself  among  the  sheens  of  brocade,  keeping  his  face  to  the 
wall.  Small  sounds  of  discontent,  passing  into  moans  and 
feverish  starts,  came  from  him. 

Todd  stood,  perplexed,  by  the  table.     Ronsard,  in  equal 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       401 

agitation,  hovered  near,  and  then  with  a  side  glance  at  the 
sick  boy,  crushed  his  cigarette  into  a  tray.  Todd's  lean 
shoulders  bent  over  as  with  a  weight.  "After  that  last," 
he  muttered,  "  I  guess  I  might  as  well  clear  out.  Is  there 
anything  further  to  discuss,  your  Excellency  ?  "  he  asked  of 
Konsard. 

The  Frenchman's,  eyes  shifted.  His  protruding  underlip 
trembled  until  he  felt  it  shake,  and  raised  a  perfumed  laden 
handkerchief  for  a  screen.  Todd  saw  the  uncertainty,  the 
battle  between  etiquette  and  fear  in  his  colleague's  face,  and, 
with  a  dry  smile,  took  the  paper  from  his  breast,  slapping  it 
down  upon  the  bare  table. 

"My  dear  sir,  my  most  valuable  friend,"  began  Konsard, 
in  his  oiliest  manner,  "you  tear  my  heartstrings  with  the 
implied  doubt.  Your  honor  is  not  to  be  questioned.  Yet  I 
would  be  glad  to  know  just  where  you  intend  to  remain  this 
fateful  afternoon."  The  contrast  between  his  tone  and  the 
relief  in  his  fat  face  were  too  much  for  Todd.  He  threw 
back  his  head  to  laugh.  Pierre,  already  dragged  far  out  in 
an  undertow  of  sleep,  did  not  turn,  but  Eonsard  glanced  up 
suspiciously.  His  half-buried  eyes  had  a  tinge  of  red. 

"It's  just  this  way,  Count,"  said  the  other,  easily.  "I 
know  what  is  in  this  little  billet,  —  you  don't.  I  assure  you 
that  the  price  is  not  big  enough  by  half  for  the  promised 
reward.  Yet  if  it  were  a  thousand  times  bigger,  and  if  I 
dreaded  and  disapproved  of  the  whole  business  ten  thousand 
times  more  than  I  do,  yet,  having  given  my  word  to  Prince 
Hagane  and  Yuki,  and  having  accepted  the  —  er  —  shall  I 
call  it  confidence  ?  —  of  you  and  Le  Beau,  I  should  keep 
strictly  both  to  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  my  bargain.  I 
can't  imagine,  to  be  frank,  the  inner  workings  of  a  man 
who  could  do  anything  else.  I  am  an  American.  I  have 
been  a  senator,  and  I  now  represent  my  Government  in  a  land 
which  fills  me  with  the  most  intense  admiration.  Does  that 
put  any  lubricator  on  your  troubled  waves  ?  " 

"My  dear  sir,"  purred  the  Frenchman,  "let  us  be  seated 
for  a  moment  more.  I  thank  your  Excellency  for  these  new 
assurances,  and  appreciate  the  generosity  of  them.  This  has 
been  an  afternoon  of  trial  for  me,  —  of  deep  humiliation. 

26 


402  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

Your  nobility  adds  but  one  more  pang,  and,  in  the  name  of 
France,  I  can  bear  it!  I  shall  give  five  hundred  yen  to  the 
poor  of  Tokio  when  this  most  detestable  affair  is  at  an  end. 
It  is  my  first  experience  of  the  kind,  and  shall  be  my  last. 
Pierre's  public  dismissal  from  the  service  of  this  Legation  will 
be  in  the  morning  papers.  I  shelter  him  no  longer." 

Todd  made  no  comment.  He  had  refused  to  take  the  prof- 
fered seat.  "Your  Excellency,  I  feel  the  need  of  fresh  air. 
I  must  go.  But  before  leaving  you  I  have  two  questions  to 
put, —  answer  or  not  as  you  think  best." 

"At  your  service,  Monsieur." 

"Have  you  any  knowledge  of  the  motive  which  prompts 
Yuki  to  take  so  strong,  so  vital  a  part  in  this  hellish  arrange- 
ment —  and —  do  you  know  her  offence  ?" 

"I  can  answer  both.  The  first  is  obvious  enough.  Madame 
has  the  natural  desire  to  pass  from  the  arms  of  winter  to  that 
of  spring.  The  other  query, —  I  cannot  give  a  positive  reply, 
but  will  share  the  data." 

Todd  waited  in  silence.  Konsard  arranged  his  words  with 
some  nicety.  "In  the  first  excitement  of  Le  Beau's  arrival, 
—  as  he  came  in  like  a  maniac,  waving  a  white  screed,  and 
gasping  out  to  me  its  nature, —  I  cried,  'Then  where  is 
Hagane  ?  He  must  be  close  behind  you ! '  Pierre,  with  a 
meaning  glance,  assured  me  that  the  great  man  could  not 
follow,  being  —  detained." 

"  Detained  ?    Well,  go  on ! " 

"I  marvelled,  as  you  do,  at  the  phrase.  'Detained,'  Pierre 
said, —  entangled,  tied,  quite  cleverly,  by  Madame  and  her 
long  gray  sleeves.  Did  you  not  notice  the  disarray  of 
Madame's  toilette?"  Ronsard  looked  up  now  full  at  his  col- 
league, as  if  to  enjoy  the  effect.  Todd  steadied  himself.  He 
would  not  give  this  man  the  satisfaction  of  gloating  over  new 
wounds.  The  whole  terrible  thing  came  clear  to  him.  He 
saw  why  Yuki  needed  to  die.  It  was  no  punishment  inflicted 
by  Hagane,  but  a  last  desperate  self-atonement. 

"Ah!"  he  answered  Ronsard,  with  wonderful  coolness, 
"I  thank  your  Excellency  for  the  elucidation.  It  is  com- 
plete. Now,  with  your  permission,  and  if  your  mind  is 
entirely  at  rest,  I  will  say  '  Good-bye  until  to-night  at  eight. '  * 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       403 

"Certainly,"  bowed  the  count,  who  did  not  relish  this 
acrobatic  reversion  to  tranquillity.  "  The  disclosure,  I  trust, 
makes  no  difference  in  your  —  sentiments." 

"  Heavens,  man !  how  could  it  ?  I  'm  not  a  tin  fish  on  a 
red  barn,  to  wheel  round  with  every  wind!  Don't  you  see  it 
is  as  much  to  me  as  anybody  else  that  the  thing  gets  back, 
unopened,  to  Hagane?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  presume  so,"  muttered  Eonsard,  and  ac- 
companied his  colleague  to  the  door.  The  American  went 
out  on  foot.  Ronsard  slowly  retraced  his  heavy  steps  to 
Pierre.  Stopping  beside  the  sleeper,  he  stared  down,  first 
thoughtfully,  then  in  growing  antipathy  and  disgust.  France, 
America,  political  acumen,  possible  distinction  for  himself  or 
Todd,  — all  were  blocked  by  this  sick  animal  who  lay,  inert  as 
a  log,  clear  across  the  current  of  affairs.  Well,  endurance 
came  with  the  thought  that  a  few  hours  more  would  see 
the  end! 

Ronsard  turned  away  at  length,  moved  restlessly  around 
the  room,  and  at  last,  with  a  resigned  sigh,  took  out  a  pack 
of  cards,  drew  a  table  before  a  long  pier-glass,  and,  solemnly 
dealing  two  hands,  played  piquet  with  his  silent,  gray  shade, 
until  the  day  went  out,  and  the  first  purple  waves  of  night 
came  rushing  in  across  a  soundless  shore. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 

IT  had  been  said  of  Mr.  Cyrus  C.  Todd  that  one  might 
recognize  him  for  an  American  half  a  mile  away.  The  alert- 
ness, buoyancy,  and  self-confidence  of  a  growing  nation  had 
expression  through  him.  He  held  himself  like  a  flagstaff 
from  which  waved  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  To-day  the  bright 
invisible  folds  clung  about  him  like  a  shroud.  He  felt  the 
weight  of  tears  upon  them,  tears  that  soon  must  be  shed. 
Look  where  he  would,  no  door  of  escape  for  Yuki  opened. 
After  all  it  was  so  much  more  Hagane's  affair  and  Pierre's 
and  even  Ronsard's!  But  what  comfort  would  this  reply 
bring  to  Gwendolen?  Ah,  there  was  the  pang!  Gwendolen, 
who  had  known  no  sister  but  this  frail  bit  of  pearl  and  moon- 
light that  held  so  deep  a  soul!  Todd's  head  sagged  between 
his  shoulders.  His  step  lost  firmness.  He  was  a  man  aged, 
to  outward  appearance,  ten  years  in  a  day. 

An  inspiring  bit  of  news  had  come  during  that  forenoon 
from  Manchuria.  The  land-engagements  by  which  Russia 
was  to  restore  her  prestige  lost  at  sea,  and  inflict  a  terrible 
retribution  on  her  audacious  enemies,  had  begun,  and  Japan, 
as  on  sea,  was  victor.  At  another  time  Todd  would  have 
rejoiced  with  the  nation.  Now  the  whole  campaign  became 
to  his  fevered  imagination  a  colossal  Juggernaut  destined  to 
crush  one  little  girl,  —  a  wheel  of  fate  (karma,  Yuki  would 
have  termed  it)  on  which  a  white  moth  should  be  broken. 

Todd  seldom  gave  himself  over  to  self -communion,  yet 
those  long  days  in  the  bright  loneliness  of  his  wheat-fields 
had  once  bred  the  habit.  An  ominous  and  most  mysterious 
factor  in  his  thought  was  a  sense  of  pre-knowledge,  of  a 
relentless  inevitability,  of  the  desirability,  even,  of  the  sac- 
rifice. The  thing  came,  like  a  predestined  growth,  from  the 
soil  of  necessity.  "Joint  knit  to  joint  expands  the  full 
formed  fate."  As  if,  indeed,  some  ghostly  counsellor  leaned 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       405 

to  him,  the  event,  from  which  his  human,  his  conventional 
selves  recoiled,  shuddering,  seemed  to  his  spirit  a  thing  de- 
signed, not  cruelly,  by  the  Gods  themselves.  Yet  to  think 
of  Yuki  —  his  little  Yuki  —  dead  with  her  youth  folded  like 
helpless  wings  about  her!  The  man  groaned  and  stumbled 
in  his  path,  as,  weeks  before,  Pierre  Le  Beau,  dazed  with  a 
more  ignoble  grief,  had  groaned  and  stumbled  on  these  very 
stones. 

The  day  was  Friday,  the  hour  approaching  five  of  the 
afternoon.  Little  girls  in  brilliant-colored  kimonos  played 
ball,  or  hop-scotch,  or  hide-and-seek  around  the  corners  of  the 
streets.  Solemn-looking  babies,  with  a  mat  of  black  hair 
tipped  to  the  backs  of  otherwise  smoothly  shaven  heads, 
loitered,  engrossed  apparently  in  Zen  meditation,  in  the 
vicinity  of  their  elders.  The  clothes  of  these  pygmy  abbots 
being  wadded  both  in  front  and  back,  one,  in  his  abstraction, 
toppling  over,  might  regain  his  equilibrium  with  a  single 
bound,  like  round-bottomed  toys  that  always  stand  on  end.  In- 
fants of  a  size  smaller  had  warm  swallows'  nests  slung  from 
the  backs  of  elder  sisters.  These  living  burdens  made  no 
difference  at  all  in  the  freedom  of  sports,  or  in  the  slumbers 
of  those  carried.  In  hop-scotch,  the  heads  of  the  babes  went 
up  and  down  with  each  hop,  until  the  slender  necks  should 
have  snapped.  But,  no,  babies  were  meant  to  pass  most  of 
their  existence  in  this  manner,  and  being  Japanese,  they 
took  it  philosophically.  Sun,  wind,  or  even  a  light  snow 
might  fall  on  the  upturned  faces,  and  sleep  still  line  the 
swallow  nest. 

Schoolboys,  in  little  squads,  passed  at  intervals.  Some 
among  them  must  have  been  of  the  very  lot  who  had  once 
informed  Pierre  of  the  meaning  of  "Ikusa!  "  Many  wore  the 
foreign  school  uniform  of  dark-blue  woollen  cloth  made  into 
scanty  trousers  and  "bob"  jackets.  With  this  outfit  went, 
inevitably,  coarse  leather  shoes.  Other  students  had  been  to 
their  homes  to  change  the  regulation  school  garb  for  the  more 
comfortable  wadded  kimono,  held  in  place  by  soft  white 
girdles  in  endless  yards  of  cloth,  and  completed  with  Japanese 
geta  or  clogs.  All  alike  wore  dark-blue  military  caps  with 
the  names  of  their  school  across  the  front  in  Chinese  ideo- 


406  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

graphs  of  gold.  Their  faces  were  smooth  and  brown;  their 
eyes  like  dark  jewels.  They  looked  fearlessly  upon  the  tall 
American.  A  few  lifted  their  caps  lightly,  in  token  of 
respect,  but  many  more  stared,  and  often  turned  away  with 
an  independence  very  close  upon  audacity.  Todd,  in  spite  of 
his  troubled  reverie,  was  beguiled  into  smiling  at  them.  Few 
indeed  responded  to  his  pleasant  look.  It  savored  to  them 
of  condescension.  Abreast  with  a  small  battalion  of  young 
swaggerers,  Todd,  for  an  experiment,  said  distinctly,  "  Banzai 
Nippon!"  The  boys  stood  as  if  electrified.  Todd  pointed 
to  his  button  of  the  Order  of  the  Rising  Sun.  Suddenly  caps 
and  voices  went  high  in  air.  "Banzai  Nippon  !  Banzai 
Nippon!"  they  shouted.  They  crowded  now  about  the 
minister,  their  faces  all  smiles,  the  mistrust  vanished.  They 
examined  his  button  eagerly,  then  his  watch-charm,  his  neck- 
tie, pin,  and  signet-ring. 

"A-rr-e  you  the  A-iner-i-kan?"  asked  one,  in  rheumatic 
English. 

"Yes,"  answered  Todd.  "I  am  the  new  American  minis- 
ter,—  A-mer-i-ca  no  Koshi."  This  was  one  of  the  few 
Japanese  phrases  he  had  acquired. 

"Banzai  Nippon!  Banzai  Nippon!"  came  the  renewed 
shout.  "American  good  friend  to  Nip-pon  —  yes?"  asked 
another  lad. 

"Huh.!  We  all  same  lick  off  Russia's  boots,"  growled  a 
surly  youth. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  do, — though  you  mustn't  say  I  said 
it !  "  laughed  Todd.  "  Good-bye !  Good-bye !  You  are  fine 
boys!" 

"Good-bye!  Good-bye,  sirr!  "  called  out  the  boys  after  him, 
with  caps  in  hand.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  most  of  them 
said,  "  Gooroo-bye-roo ! "  but  the  sentiment,  at  least,  was 
faultless. 

Todd,  looking  back  to  them,  wondered  whether  there  were 
any  incipient  Togos,  Kurokis,  and  Haganes  among  the  strip- 
lings. He  sighed.  The  untarnished  enthusiasms  of  youth 
are  always  saddening,  —  though  very  precious.  One  of  the 
boys  looked  like  Yuki.  The  likeness  led  him  back,  like  a 
jailer,  to  his  dark  cell  of  meditation. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE   GODS  407 

"  What  am  I  to  say  to  Gwendolen  ?  "  was  now  his  despair- 
ing cry.  Gwendolen's  eager  questions,  Gwendolen's  clear 
eyes,  —  they  would  soon  be  torture-irons.  She  knew  enough 
of  the  situation  to  have  a  right  to  all,  yet  how  on  earth  was 
he  to  tell  of  a  thing  which  no  one  had  stated  to  himself,  —  a 
fleck  of  terrible  certainty  drifting  to  his  gaze  from  Yuki's 
soul?  Now  a  revulsion  against  the  whole  morbid  situation 
flooded  his  being.  He  felt  as  he  had  sometimes  felt  in  dreams 
when  a  horrible  thing  crept  near,  and  he,  though  half -con- 
scious that  it  was  only  a  dream,  still  sub-consciously  must 
endure  the  pangs  of  reality  until  he  could  wrench  himself 
awake.  Perhaps  this  also  might  prove  a  phantasm  of  the 
night!  He  snatched  at  the  delusion.  The  voices  of  young 
children,  the  whirr  of  the  low  red  sun  through  fleeting 
jinrikisha  wheels,  the  gentle,  restraining  touch  upon  his  hand 
of  falling  petals,  jeered  softly  at  the  self-deceiver. 

The  city  streets  shortened  now  to  purple  vistas.  Across 
from  the  smouldering  west  a  single  planet,  isolated  by  its 
own  brightness,  preened  itself  with  feathers  of  light.  Todd's 
thoughts  moved  on  like  the  shadow-pictures  of  a  revolving 
lantern.  Each  was  a  silhouette,  black,  angular,  menacing. 
If  Yuki  had  indeed  held  Hagane  inert,  if  an  impulse  of  love, 
even  of  pity  for  a  sick  man,  had  prevented  the  instant  regain, 
ing  of  such  a  paper,  naturally  she  must  get  it  back,  though 
at  the  price  of  her  life.  But  what  did  the  babbling  sick  boy 
mean  by  saying  that  he  had  offered  to  return  the  paper  to 
Hagane,  if  only  Yuki  would  be  forgiven,  and  that  both  as 
with  one  voice  had  refused?  Here  was  the  knot  that  pulled. 

Hagane  did  not  hate  or  scorn  his  young  wife ;  Todd  would 
stake  his  honor  on  that  point.  Never  had  a  human  counte- 
nance shone  with  deeper  tenderness  than  that  which  Hagane 
had  turned  on  Yuki  within  a  few  moments,  too,  of  her  wrong- 
doing. The  more  urgently  she  had  insisted  upon  fulfilling 
the  bargain,  the  brighter  the  faith  in  her  that  Hagane's  eyes 
had  betrayed.  Yuki's  secret  was  plain  enough.  She  was  to 
die  by  her  own  hand,  giving  her  hostage  of  a  soul  to  Hagane, 
the  body  of  her  death  to  Pierre.  Both  she  and  Hagane  had 
been  assiduous  to  use  the  one  term  "body."  Todd  could 
understand  this  much,  but  what  was  Hagane's  hidden  source 


408  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

of  light?  Here  conjecture  failed.  If  Yuki's  death  were  the 
only  possible  way  of  redeeming  the  paper,  all  motives  would 
be  plain ;  but  Pierre  said  that  he  had  offered  to  restore  it. 
This  was  a  great  thing  for  Pierre  to  have  done.  Todd's  heart 
ached  for  the  poor,  weak,  tortured  boy,  so  soon  to  be  over- 
whelmed in  an  iridescent  wreck  of  his  own  making. 

Yuki  was  to  die!  This  one  thing  alone  was  terrible  enough. 
His  weary  thought  went  on  in  a  creaking  treadmill.  To 
Hagane  the  mere  fact  of  death  would,  of  course,  be  less  terri- 
ble and  less  important.  Mere  animal  existence,  for  its  own 
sake,  no  matter  how  pleasant  the  surroundings,  is  scorned 
by  a  true  Japanese.  They  have  other  lives  to  live,  even  on 
this  old  planet.  They  are  to  come  again,  soothed  and 
strengthened  by  the  few  years  of  interval,  each  in  the  fresh, 
new  body  of  a  little  child.  In  such  tender  blossoms  of  their 
own  race  they  re-enter  a  world  from  which,  smiling  or  shiver- 
ing, as  karma  may  have  tended,  they  departed.  Return- 
ing,  they  are  dazed,  a  little  wistful,  a  little  timorous,  yet 
grateful  for  the  new  chance.  Believing  that  great  sorrow  and 
great  temptation  come  always  from  the  deeds  of  a  previous 
existence,  they  meet  them  bravely,  carrying  their  own  bur- 
dens, clear  in  determination  to  retrieve  that  past,  and  mark 
out  for  the  future  a  straighter  and  a  higher  way.  The  gentle 
Amida,  Kwannon  of  Mercy,  Jizo  with  the  tender  smile,  —  all 
may  help  them.  Fudo  Sama,  immovable  in  a  torment  of 
flame,  Monju,  Aizen,  and  the  old  Shinto  Gods  may  give 
them  strength;  but  each  human  soul  has  wrapped  in  itself 
the  power  of  growth  and  of  decay.  So,  mounting,  striving^ 
failing,  reconquering,  at  last  the  pilgrim  may  approach  that 
shining  mystery  the  world  calls  "Nirvana,"-  — that  glare  of 
glory  where  the  soul  is  swallowed  up  in  light,  and  so  passes 
on  to  new  realms  of  a  radiance  so  ineffable  that  human  thought 
falls  helpless  and  blind  before  it. 

He  had  heard  Yuki  tell  all  this  to  Gwendolen  before  the 
days  of  her  Christian  conversion.  His  listening  had  been 
more  eager  than  he  cared  to  show.  Gwendolen  had  voiced 
his  thought,  as  she  replied,  with  a  long  sigh  of  wonder,  "It 
does  seem  reasonable.  So  many  things  that  we  have  to  guess 
at  are  explained  by  this  thing  you  call  reincarnation.  Love 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       409 

at  first  sight,  sudden  aversions,  family  tendencies,  that 
queer  feeling  of  having  been  in  a  new  place  many  times  be- 
fore—  I  think  I'll  turn  Buddhist,  Yuki;  but  don't  hint  it 
to  mama." 

Yuki  had  become  a  Christian.  She  believed  her  early 
religious  training  to  have  passed  forever.  She  was  sincere 
and  earnest  in  the  new  faith.  Her  face  turned,  as  by  a  gentle 
instinct,  to  the  Star  of  Bethlehem.  All  that  she  professed, 
she  believed  truly  and  without  question.  Yet  this  life  of 
hers  was,  after  all,  but  a  flower  sprung  from  an  eternal  stem, 
whose  roots  were  packed,  burrowed,  and  buried  deep  in  cen- 
turies of  Eastern  mysticism.  She  had  drawn  her  convictions 
from  her  mother's  breast,  while,  to  belief  of  the  tender 
nurse,  ancestral  Spirits  hovered  and  smiled  above  them  both. 
She  had  breathed  it  in  each  year  at  Bon  Matsuri,  the  Festival 
of  the  Dead,  when  little  boats,  laden  with  prayer  and  incense 
and  the  warmth  of  human  food,  went  forth  to  comfort  the 
souls  of  those  who  had  died  at  sea,  when  each  hillside 
cemetery  stirred  with  the  soft  clashing  of  ghostly  lanterns, 
luminous  in  a  spectral  ether,  when  little  steaming  cups  of 
tea,  and  flowers,  and  children's  toys,  were  offered  to  the  dead 
ghost-people.  Here  were  the  meeting-places  of  the  living 
and  the  dead.  Here  the  two  worlds  answered,  face  to  face, 
as  reflections  in  still  water.  Yuki,  in  those  childish  days,  no 
more  doubted  that  hordes  of  spirits  moved  about  her,  lifting 
her  hair,  creeping  into  her  sleeve,  reaching  even  to  the  shelter 
of  her  faithful  heart,  than,  later,  in  America  she  had  doubted 
the  presence  of  her  human  schoolmates,  sitting  in  rows  before 
wooden  desks. 

And  now,  above  the  blood-wet  battlefields,  the  spirits  of 
the  great  heroes  of  the  past,  worshipped  by  generations  of 
the  Japanese  faithful,  were  hovering,  to  test,  by  their  su- 
preme standards  of  valor  and  endurance,  the  gray  hosts  of 
new  aspirants  for  immortality.  Yuki  would  feel  that  they 
were  her  judges  also. 

And  the  gentle  Gods  would  be  near,  —  Kwannon,  Jizo, 
Amida  —  standing  in  great  shining  nebulae  of  faith  on  the 
rim  of  night. 

These  sweeter  visions  passed,  and  the  dark  monitor  in 


410  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Todd's  brain  set  him  the  task  of  fathoming  Pierre's  deed. 
The  boy  had  stolen.  Contempt  swept  from  the  thinker's 
mind  its  late  compassion.  Illness  alone  might  partially 
excuse  it;  but  in  delirium,  as  in  drunkenness,  the  latent  im- 
pulse often  shows  itself.  And  Pierre,  a  young  French  dandy, 
a  thief,  expected  to  make,  that  night,  such  a  woman  as  the 
Princess  Hagane  utterly  his  own.  Yuki  had  probably  saved 
his  life  at  the  expense  of  hers.  His  grateful  reward  would 
be  to  defame  her.  Then  why  would  Hagane  not  take  her 
back  ?  Was  she  unworthy,  simply  through  the  act  of  saving 
Pierre,  or  was  there  a  lower  reason?  No  —  no  —  no — the 
man  cried  out  to  himself.  Yuki  could  not  be  evil.  If  Hagane 
believed  it  of  her,  he  could  not  have  so  smiled;  he  had  the 
look  of  a  high-priest  bent  upon  a  beloved  penitent.  And  that 
Konsard  should  have  believed,  —  a  man  who  could  speak  and 
understand  the  Japanese  language,  who  had  lived  among  the 
people  for  eleven  years!  Having  faced  another  blank  wall, 
Todd  turned. 

He  fell  now  to  wondering  in  what  way  Yuki  would  choose 
to  die.  The  long  strain  began  to  tell  on  him.  Morbid 
thoughts  and  fancies  assailed  him.  He  almost  gloated  over 
the  anticipation  of  Pierre's  agony  when  he  should  be  paid  his 
price.  But  how  would  Yuki  die  ?  Would  she  be  alone,  or 
Hagane  with  her?  Would  her  hand  or  his  deal  the  final  blow 
—  give  Death  his  first  sweet  sip  of  her  ?  The  two  would  be 
together;  yes,  it  must  be  so;  and  the  scene,  unwitnessed 
though  it  was,  one  of  unrivalled  heroism,  the  silent  speech  of 
two  Gods  alone  on  a  cloudy  mountain-top.  And  what  was  he 
to  say  to  Gwendolen! 

The  treadmill  creaked  again,  and  registered  the  notch  of  an- 
other empty  revolution.  Now  Todd  shook  himself  and  raised 
his  eyes  to  see  how  far  he  had  come.  Not  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  him  began  the  slope  of  Azabu.  Blackening  swiftly 
against  the  copper  sky  loomed  the  great  Japanese  entrance  to 
his  Legation.  Evidently  he  must  decide  swiftly  what  to  tell 
or  not  to  tell  his  daughter.  He  thought  of  Dodge.  Dodge 
knew  the  Japanese  better  than  he;  maybe  he  knew  girls 
better.  In  the  breaking  of  the  news  to  Gwendolen  he  might 
be  of  great  help.  Then  the  tiny  flicker  of  comfort  died. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       411 

Dodge  and  Gwendolen  were  playing  at  being  enemies.  They 
scarcely  spoke.  It  was  a  lover's  quarrel,  Todd  supposed,  for 
Dodge  certainly  loved  her;  and  the  sudden  friendship,  on 
the  girl's  part,  of  a  successful  rival  betrayed  clearly  her  sen- 
timents. Lovers'  quarrels  were  well  enough  in  their  way; 
but  why  should  this  have  come  just  now  when  Dodge  could 
be  of  use  ? 

He  drew  a  sigh  that  racked  the  meagre  frame,  and  started  up 
the  slope.  "  Kuruma,  Dan-na  San  !  Kick-shaw,  —  Dan-na 
San?"  cried  a  group  of  coolies  who  had  a  little  station  at 
the  base  of  the  hill.  Their  accents  were  persuasive,  even 
plaintive.  They  moved  forward  in  a  body,  the  empty  black 
vehicles  (inseparable  from  them  as  shells  from  snails)  rattling 
behind  them.  They  clamored  like  crows. 

"No,  I  don't  want  you.  No,  I  say,  I-I-ye!  Go  back," 
he  cried,  and  waved  them  off,  with  some  irritation  at  their 
persistence. 

The  smooth  gravelled  driveway  of  the  hill  might  have  been 
a  trough  of  viscid  red  clay,  to  judge  from  the  slow  and  drag- 
ging steps  of  the  one  who  now  ascended  it.  The  rejected 
coolies,  staring  up  from  the  street  level,  assured  one  another 
that  the  tall  foreigner  was  both  sick  and  stingy.  For  the 
latter  fault  they  hoped  he  would  fall  down  before  reaching 
the  top  of  the  hill.  Then  they  would  run  to  him,  and  charge 
a  yen  apiece  for  picking  him  up.  They  began  to  ascend, 
stealthily,  like  human  vultures. 

The  dark  spot  of  his  ascending  head  could  scarcely  have 
been  seen  through  the  opened  gate,  when,  in  a  whirl  of  rus- 
tling skirts,  Gwendolen  came  down  upon  him.  "I  cannot  tell 
her,"  he  muttered  between  clenched  teeth,  as  she  came. 
"  I  shall  die.  She  must  not  know  what  I  believe  ! " 

Gwendolen  did  not  reproach  him  for  being  late,  though  he 
had  thought  her  first  words  would  be  a  playful  chiding.  She 
did  not  speak  at  all,  only  took  his  arm,  pressed  it  lovingly 
with  her  own,  and  with  cheek  sometimes  laid  for  an  instant 
against  his  shoulder  made  the  rest  of  the  ascent  with  him. 
The  tenderness,  the  consideration  of  her  manner,  touched 
him  profoundly.  He  looked  down  into  her  face,  white  and 
fair  even  in  the  dying  light.  She  smiled  up  at  him.  He 


412  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

saw  a  new  beauty,  a  hint  of  new  strength  in  her.  For  a 
moment  his  harassed  sense  clutched  the  impossible.  Maybe 
good  news  of  Yuki  had  come  to  her! 

"What  is  it,  child?  You  look  different?  What  has 
happened?" 

She  gave  a  low  little  laugh,  and  did  not  answer.  They  had 
nearly  reached  the  gate.  In  the  great  shadow  a  smaller 
shadow  stepped  out  to  join  them.  Gwendolen  put  out  a 
white  hand  and  drew  it  near.  "  This  is  what  has  happened, 
father  —  "  she  whispered.  "We  are  —  friends  again." 

"Friends?"  echoed  Todd;  "you  and  Mr.  Dodge, — thank 
God!" 

"Friends!"  came  Dodge's  pleasant  voice ;  "well  I  rather 
guess  not ! " 

"Gwendolen,"  said  her  father,  drawing  her  close,  "is  this 
true?" 

She  clung  to  him,  crying  just  a  little  in  her  excitement. 
"Yes,  dad,  if  you  are  willing  —  if  it  will  not  make  you 
unhappy.  He  has  talked  with  me, — of  the  other  thing; 
he  has  comforted  me,  —  though  he  believes  it  to  be,  oh,  so 
terrible !  Are  you  —  willing,  dearest  father?  " 

Todd  put  an  arm  around  each,  pressing  the  brown  and  the 
golden  heads  close.  "I  wish  it  of  all  things,"  he  said. 
"Dodge  is  an  American  and  a  gentleman;  nothing  is  better 
than  that.  Just  now  this  —  happiness  of  yours  is  a  gift  of 
God,  for  I  bring  nothing  joyous." 

"Tell  us  everything,"  pleaded  Gwendolen.  "I  can  stand 
anything  now;  my  heart  couldn't  break  with  you  one  side  of 
it,  and  h-him  the  other."  Dodge  went  around  to  his  side. 

"I  —  I  —  guess  it  would  be  safer  to  tell  it  in  the  private 
office,"  said  Todd,  beginning  to  fumble  for  a  handkerchief. 
" To  tell  you  the  truth,  Gwen,  —  I'd   really  like  —  if  you 
don't  mind,  my  dears,  —  to  turn  woman  and  have  one  good 
cry." 

"Come  on,"  said  Gwendolen;  "I'll  cry  with  you.     I  am 
so  mi-mi-miserable  and   hap-hap-happy,    I   just  can't  — 
She  broke  off  in  tears. 

"I  'm  in! "  said  Dodge,  pulling  out  his  handkerchief. 

Laughing  and  crying  together,  with  arms  around  one  an- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       413 

other,  they  went  in  at  the  tall  gate  and  to  the  ambassador's 
little  den. 

In  the  big  house,  in  the  drawing-room,  Mrs.  Stunt  and 
Madame  Todd  exchanged  mild  confidences  and  cooking 
recipes.  The  latter  had  refused  for  once  to  discuss  the 
affairs  either  of  Pierre  or  Madame  Hagane. 

And  so  the  night  came  in. 


CHAPTER   THIRTY 

NIGHT  in  Japan,  when  the  day  has  been  all  or  partly  clear, 
is  a  deepening  mystery,  a  revelation  of  purple  tones  and 
velvet  shadows.  In  the  French  Legation  garden  (designed 
originally  for  the  delight  of  a  feudal  daimyo  and  afterward 
given  as  part  of  the  French  concession  for  official  buildings) 
the  soft  blurred  dusk  concealed  all  but  the  vaguest  sugges- 
tions of  copse  and  path  and  hillock.  A  wanderer  on  the  dew- 
drenched  gravel  might  perceive  about  him,  as  by  instinct,  the 
beauty  of  line  and  mass.  The  smell  of  daphne  and  azalea 
flowers  rose  with  pungent  sweetness.  Higher  trees  and 
mounds,  set  with  rolling  shrubs,  rose  against  the  sky-line 
and  the  stars  like  great  crouching  earth-clouds. 

Pierre  moved  up  and  down  the  driveway  just  below  the 
steps  that  led  down  from  a  balcony  on  the  quiet  west  side  of 
the  house.  Ignoring  the  doctor's  orders,  he  had  come  a  full 
hour  before  the  appointed  time.  Ronsard,  seeing  his  inten- 
tion, had  expostulated  vehemently,  using  both  language  and 
gesticulation,  but  soon  shrugged  off  the  obligation  with  the 
reviving  thought,  "  Only  an  hour  more,  and  it  will  be  over ! " 

So  Pierre  had  walked  at  will.  He  drew  in  heavy  breaths 
of  the  scented,  humid  air.  He  believed  himself  impervious 
now  to  further  illness.  He  would  not  have  listened  or  be- 
lieved if  one  had  told  him  that  his  present  interlude  of 
fictitious  strength  was  lik^  the  shade  of  a  upas-tree  in  a 
scorching  desert.  One  cigarette  after  another  was  smoked 
and  thrown  at  random  among  the  shrubs,  where  each  in  turn 
lay  like  a  malicious  glow-worm,  hissing  and  winking  away 
an  acrid  spite.  In  the  west  a  faint  shining  stirred  the 
advent  of  the  moon. 

At  ten  minutes  to  eight  o'clock  Mr.  Todd  arrived.  He  was 
ushered  at  once,  by  order,  into  the  small  drawing-room  where 
Ronsard  sat.  His  face  had  new  lines  of  struggle,  and  was 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       415 

very  pale,  but  self-possession  was  evident  in  every  gesture. 
His  first  act  on  reaching  Ronsard  was  to  draw  out  the  paper, 
saying,  "  This,  sir,  has  not  left  my  body,  or  been  touched  by 
any  hand  but  mine,  or  been  referred  to  by  any  speech,  since 
the  moment,  a  few  hours  since,  when  I  left  you." 

In  his  long,  earnest  explanation  to  Gwendolen  and  Dodge, 
Todd  had,  indeed,  carefully  refrained  from  letting  them  know 
that  he  was  personal  guardian  of  the  document.  It  might 
have  opened  for  them  another  blind  trail  of  argument.  Dur- 
ing that  agonizing  interview  he  had  thanked  fate  a  hundred 
times  for  the  part  that  Dodge  had  so  opportunely  been  quali- 
fied to  play.  The  clear  judgment,  intense  sympathy,  and 
clever  resourcefulness  of  the  young  diplomat  delighted  him 
even  in  the  midst  of  tragic  exercise.  It  had  taken  the  utmost 
skill  of  both  men  to  overpower  Gwendolen's  first  keen  desire 
to  go  to  her  friend,  to  make  the  girl  see  that  interference  on 
her  part  had  become  impossible.  He  had  left  her  half -faint- 
ing, though  still  insistent  in  her  belief  that  God  could  not 
allow  such  a  crime! 

Ronsard  rose  as  the  guest  entered.  He,  too,  had  gained  a 
certain  fatalistic  calm.  In  reply  to  Todd's  elaborate  explana- 
tion, he  had  said  simply,  "Return  the  paper  to  its  place, 
your  Excellency.  The  farce  will  soon  be  over.  Shall  we  not 
join  our  young  imbecile  in  the  garden?" 

They  paced  together  wide  dimly  lighted  rooms,  and  emerged 
upon  the  uncovered  western  balcony.  Pierre  looked  up  and, 
wordless,  continued  his  rapid,  nervous  strides. 

"  He  '11  kill  himself,  the  fool,"  muttered  Todd.  "  The  mist 
piles  in  like  thin  cotton." 

"It  is  too  late  even  for  his  death  to  be  of  assistance,"  said 
Ronsard,  with  bitter  animosity.  His  small  eyes  darted  loath- 
ing after  his  young  compatriot.  He  thrust  pudgy  hands 
deep  into  pockets  below  the  equator  of  his  belt,  and  rocked 
to  and  fro  on  his  heels.  Suddenly  the  pent-up  discomfort, 
the  apprehension,  the  strain  of  the  situation  clutched  him 
anew.  "God!"  he  cried  aloud,  and  shook  himself  until  the 
fat  trembled.  "  As  you  say,  Monsieur,  no  man  is  worth  all 
this,  nor  woman  either,  least  of  all  that  puling  hind  yonder! 
Only  a  great  cause  is  worth  it,  — the  service  for  one's  native 


416  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

land.  I  have  tried  to  think  of  France  —  of  France  only. 
My  country  is  to  be  cheated.  I  can  do  nothing;  yet  still  I 
wallow  in  this  tepid  slime!  How  has  it  come  about?  You 
will  give  Hagane  the  paper,  if  he  brings  the  woman  with 
him ! "  He  broke  off,  and  after  a  keen  look  into  Todd's  un- 
responsive face  began  to  walk  in  short,  broken  steps  up  and 
down  the  stone  flooring. 

His  words  had  rung  out  clearly.  Pierre  must  have  heard 
each  one ;  but  if  so,  he  made  no  sign.  Pierre  had  now  but 
one  thing  to  think  of,  —  his  price,  the  woman  that  would 
soon  be  here. 

Todd  leaned  against  a  corner  pedestal,  and  Ronsard,  after  a 
moment,  paused  in  his  meaningless  exercise,  and  stood  again 
before  his  colleague.  The  two  pairs  of  eyes  met  and  fenced. 
Todd  might  have  been  made  of  wood.  After  a  long  glance 
Ronsard  freed  his  right  hand  from  its  pocket  and  began  pull- 
ing at  the  moist,  red  underlip.  "  You  will  of  course,  in  any 
case,  give  up  the  paper  at  first  appearance  of  Hagane  and 
Madame?"  His  voice  slid  querulously  upward  with  interro- 
gation in  the  pause. 

"Yes,"  said  Todd,  distinctly.  "I  conceive  it  to  be  my  part 
to  return  the  paper  at  that  moment." 

"Er  —  had  we  not  better  pause  to  see  whether  Madame 
tends  to  prove  after  all  —  recalcitrant  ?  " 

"  The  bargain  said  nothing  of  that.  Pierre  gets  his  price, 
—  the  person  of  Yuki,  so  they  always  worded  it;  Hagane 
gets  the  paper.  It  is  simple  enough.  We  don't  need  a  light- 
ning-calculator." 

"Hark!  "  said  Pierre,  pausing,  stricken,  just  beneath  them. 
"Is  it  not  the  sound  of  —  wheels?" 

All  became  silent,  alert,  intent.  The  faint,  low  crackle 
and  clatter  of  a  kuruma  on  gravel,  a  vehicle  slowly  drawn, 
came  apparently  from  the  far  end  of  the  garden,  just  under 
the  spot  where  the  moon  rose. 

From  the  battlements  of  the  white  house  beside  them,  the 
great  pale  house  standing  upright  like  an  opened  volume  in 
the  night,  a  queer  flutter  came,  swart  wings  went  beating 
against  the  stars,  and  a  crow  laughed  aloud  with  raucous 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       417 

"A  crow  at  night!  It  means,  among  these  people,  death!  " 
said  Ronsard. 

Pierre  started  violently,  and  dropped  his  last  cigarette. 
"Damn  the  flying  fiend!"  he  cursed  aloud. 

The  crunching  of  wheels  drew  near.  They  moved  with  in- 
creasing sluggishness.  Each  click  had  a  sound  of  protest. 
To  Pierre's  tortured  hearing,  all  noises  crawled  backward. 

By  this  the  moon  was  in  the  tops  of  enoki,  camphor,  and 
tall  camellia  trees.  Where  its  light  touched  curves  of  shelled 
and  smoothly  gravelled  paths,  the  spaces  were  of  snow. 

Out  from  the  great  red  pagoda  of  Shiba  temple,  not  half  a 
mile  away,  came  the  first  stir,  the  throb,  the  murmur  of  a 
great  bell  struck  tentatively  by  its  swinging  cedar  beam, 
before  receiving  in  full  strength  the  initial  stroke  of  eight. 
"One!"  the  great  bronze  pendant  boomed.  "Two!"  came 
more  slowly  and  on  a  higher  note,  sending  swifter  ripples 
to  overtake  the  first  scurrying  elves  of  sound.  "Three!" 
"Four!"  It  swung  majestically  until  the  last  stroke,  piling 
echoes  deep,  filled  the  whole  shell  of  night  with  discontent, 
and  sank,  a  dew  of  sound,  on  listening  leaves. 

With  the  first  tone,  the  jinrikisha  wheels  had  stopped. 
The  great  crow,  shaken  from  his  height,  had  fled.  Pursued 
far  off  by  melodious  echoes,  he  flapped  his  wings  and  screamed. 
A  cricket  near  the  steps  awoke,  jarred  from  his  winter  sleep 
by  vibrant  summons.  The  needle  of  his  shrill,  incongruous 
song  pierced  to  the  listeners'  hearts. 

"Mother  of  God!  "  cried  Pierre,  smiting  his  clammy  fore- 
head, "  how  is  it  that  I  live  at  all?  " 

Around  a  curved  hillock  directly  bordering  a  path,  straight 
into  unhindered  light,  came  the  white  hat  and  stooping 
shoulders  of  a  coolie.  Behind  him  dragged  the  dark  bulk 
of  a  covered  vehicle.  Pierre  half  fainted  against  the  steps. 
"  She  has  come  alone  —  alone  —  "  he  cried  in  exultation.  Re- 
gaining his  feet  he  wheeled  to  the  two  men  watching  from 
the  balcony.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  cried  with  a  gesture,  "  may  I 
entreat  you  to  leave,  —  for  these  first  moments?  " 
The  coolie  came  on  like  a  heavy  machine. 
Ronsard,  at  Pierre's  question,  transferred  his  weight  from 
one  foot  to  the  other,  and  then  looked  at  Todd.  The  latter 

27 


418  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

deliberately  walked  down  the  shallow  steps  and  stood  on  the 
gravel  beside  Pierre.  The  white  hat  of  the  coolie  fronted 
them  like  a  silver  shield.  Pierre  scowled  upon  the  American, 
and  gave  a  sound  of  anger. 

"I  'm  sorry,"  said  Todd,  calmly.  "But  I  promised  to  be 
present  during  just  these  first  moments.  Prince  Hagane  has 
my  word." 

"  Prince  Hagane ! "  echoed  Pierre,  with  a  hoarse  laugh  that 
was  kin  to  the  crow's.  "Where  is  Prince  Hagane?  Backed 
out  at  the  last,  as  I  thought  he  would  —  like  the  coward  and 
bully  that  he  is!  There  has  no  Hagane  come,  don't  you  see? 
Only  Yuki  —  my  darling  —  my  poor  little  love.  I  see  her 
white  dress  yonder!  " 

The  coolie  straightened  himself,  flung  the  wide  hat  side- 
ways with  a  single  fierce  sweep  of  arm,  and  turned  to  the 
wondering  observers  the  set,  livid  face  and  burning  eyes  of 
Hagane. 

"Prince  Hagane  is  here,"  he  said  quietly,  and  tried  to 
smile. 

His  peasant  hat,  skimming  along  the  gravel,  touched  now 
and  again  with  a  hissing  sound  the  surface  of  small  stones. 
At  length  in  a  small  patch  of  moonlight  it  came  to  rest,  and 
lay  rocking  slightly,  and  gaping  upward  like  a  mendicant's 
bowl. 

Pierre  cowered.  Ronsard  nearly  fell.  "Prince  Hagane 
in  coolie's  garb!  What  new  horror  is  this?" 

"Suppose  we  call  it  —  delicacy."  suggested  Hagane. 
"Could  any  secrecy  be  too  great  for  such  a  meeting?" 

Todd  narrowed  his  lids.  Hagane  kept  a  hand  close  upon 
one  shaft  of  the  little  vehicle,  conserving  the  upright  posture. 
The  black  hood,  bent  far  over  to  the  front,  completely  con- 
cealed the  occupant ;  but  the  dazzling  white  of  a  gown  with 
pale  embroideries,  and  the  faint  odor  of  flowers  and  of  sandal- 
wood  now  stealing  upon  the  night  air,  should,  in  any  case, 
have  betrayed  her  sex. 

"  Yuki  —  Yuki,  you  have  really  come  !  "  cried  Pierre,  and 
would  have  rushed  to  her  but  for  the  obstruction  of  Hagane 's 
arm. 

"First,  the  paper,"  said  Hagane. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       419 

Todd  jerked  out  the  document.     Konsard  held  him. 

"Wait;  there  is  something  damnable  in  that  still  white 
thing  there  in  the  rickshaw.  Wait  and  see  whether  it  is 
really  Madame  la  Princesse,  or  a  substitute." 

Hagane  stared  one  moment  upon  the  speaker  with  lips  that 
writhed  backward,  showing  teeth  like  a  baited  boar.  "His 
Excellency  is  always  prudent.  See,  gentlemen,  for  your- 
selves, that  I  have  brought  my  wife.  Mr.  Todd,  have  the 
document  ready ! " 

With  an  almost  imperceptible  motion  Hagane  slipped  from 
its  nail  the  black,  taut  twine  that  held  the  lowered  hood.  It 
rattled  back  with  the  noise  of  the  spokes  of  a  giant  fan. 
Yuki  sat  upright,  — the  full  moon  just  behind  her,  — smiling. 
The  little  hands  were  clasped  tightly  in  her  lap.  The  coils 
of  her  orchid  hair  had  the  glint  and  sheen  of  the  crow's 
wing. 

"  It  is  Yuki,  —  certainement !  "  screamed  Pierre,  in  ecstasy. 

"  Hold  back  that  paper  ! "  roared  Ronsard. 

Todd  stood  on  tiptoe.  One  long  thin  arm  went  up  like 
the  derrick  of  a  dredging-machine.  His  hand  held  some- 
thing square  and  white  "with  a  black  blotch  on  it.  The  arm 
lowered.  Hagane  reached  up,  took  the  paper,  and  thrust  it 
deep  into  the  breast  of  his  coolie  robe. 

"The  paper—  "  groaned  Ronsard;  "it  is  gone  forever! " 

"But  Yuki,"  cried  Pierre,  "has  come  to  be  mine  forever!" 

"One  moment,  gentlemen,"  said  Hagane,  again  restraining 
Pierre.  "You  were  all  present  at  the  agreement  between 
Monsieur  Le  Beau  and  me.  The  paper  is  now  regained,  and 
here  is  its  price ;  here  is  Onda  Yuki-ko."  He  placed  the  shafts 
of  the  little  vehicle  on  the  lowest  stair,  and  stepped  out 
sheer  upon  the  walk.  Pierre,  like  an  animal  released,  sprang 
to  Yuki,  knelt  by  her,  caught  her  hands,  and  began  whisper- 
ing words  of  love. 

Now  for  the  first  time  Todd  groaned  aloud,  and  walked  to 
a  little  distance.  Ronsard  followed  him.  But  the  Japanese 
stood  immovable,  his  eyes  on  Yuki's  face. 

"  My  beloved,  my  beloved,  —  I  know  now  that  I  have  not 
believed  in  this  ecstasy  !  But  you  are  here  !  Come,  dear 
one,  you  must  be  chilled  in  the  night  air.  How  quiet  you 


420  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

are  and  pale!  It  must  be  the  moonlight.  And  your  little 
hands  are  cold!  Why  do  you  not  speak,  love!  Are  you 
trying  to  frighten  me?  This  is  not  the  time  for  dainty 
trickery!  Speak,  for  God's  sake!  I  have  been  so  long  on 
the  rack  my  very  soul  is  sore !  Why  do  you  smile  so,  and 
never  change?  Your  cheek  is  colder  than  your  hands. — O 
God,  a  thought  is  coming  that  will  turn  me,  too,  into  ice! 
Yuki,  Yuki,  what  strange  thing  is  this  rooted  in  your  heart, 
—  what  grim  hilt  with  twisted  dragons?  I  see  the  crest  of 
the  Haganfc  clan !  Yuki  —  Yuki  —  " 

"She  wishes  the  dagger  not  removed,  Monsieur.  It  keeps 
her  sacrificial  robes  —  immaculate."  Hagane  spoke  like  a 
machine. 

Pierre,  the  other  side  of  Yuki,  rose  to  his  feet.  His 
eyeballs  swelled  and  rolled  in  the  moonlight,  giving  him  a 
look  of  frenzy.  "  Who  is  that  that  speaks  to  me  ?  Has 
night  a  voice?  What  spirit  hides  behind  that  mask  ?  " 

"Death,"  said  Hagane,  calmly. 

Pierre  writhed  beside  the  vehicle,  and  then  became  very 
still.  The  other  listeners  turned,  expecting  an  outburst  of 
maniacal  grief,  —  perhaps  a  murderous  assault  on  Hagane. 
Pierre's  composure  was  more  terrible  than  any  speech.  He 
smoothed  one  of  Yuki's  hands,  and,  after  a  pause,  began 
speaking  directly  to  her. 

"So  this  has  been  his  plan,  dear  ?  I  might  have  guessed. 
He  knew  he  was  to  kill  you.  Oh,  the  deed  suited  him !  He 
called  me  a  thief;  but  what  has  he  not  stolen?  Wait  for 
me  somewhere,  darling,  — I  cannot  say  just  where  it  will  be; 
but  after  —  I  will  meet  you.  If  sickness  does  not  free  me, 
I  myself  will  loose  this  tortured  soul  and  find  you." 

"  She  died  by  her  own  hand.  That  dagger  was  already  in 
her  heart  as  you,  with  the  stolen  paper,  left  my  room." 

"  Oh,  he  is  trying  to  hide,  —  to  shield  himself  behind  you, 
poor  little  one !  "  said  Pierre  to  the  dead  woman. 

A  shadow  on  the  nearest  hillock  moved.  Todd  went  nearer 
to  examine  it,  but  could  see  no  living  thing. 

"Time  presses,"  said  Hagane,  speaking  always  in  the  same 
dull,  hopeless  way.  "Our  bargain  was  clearly  stated.  Shall 
I  now  leave  with  you  the  body,  Monsieur  Le  Beau,  or  shall  I 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       421 

retrace  my  steps  as  I  came,  giving  honorable  burial  to  the 
Princess  Hagane?  " 

"Le  Beau,  you  cannot  hesitate  at  such  a  question,"  cried 
Todd. 

"Pierre,  Pierre,  in  the  name  of  France,  compromise  us 
no  further!  You  have  done  harm  enough.  Let  the  poor  sac- 
rifice go  in  peace !  " 

Pierre  caught  Yuki  to  him,  his  arm  about  her  shoulder, 
her  glossy  hair,  with  the  white  flowers,  strained  against  his 
heart.  Like  a  trapped  beast  he  defied  them  all. 

"No,  I  '11  not  give  her  up.  You  are  all  false,  — all  have 
betrayed  me.  If  I  am  to  have  nothing  else,  I  keep  at  least 
the  frail  shell  of  what  she  was !  Oh,  I  shall  kiss  —  kiss  — 
kiss  —  her  into  life,  or  myself  into  her  cold,  white  death. 
Yes,  go,  you  toad  of  Hell ! "  he  screamed  toward  Hagane. 
"Leave  my  price  with  me." 

"Though  dead,  she  still  has  reputation  —  family  honor," 
Hagane  said. 

Pierre  threw  back  his  head  for  a  derisive  laugh.  Just  then 
a  strange  thing  happened.  From  the  hillock  near  by  a 
crouching  shrub  seemed  to  detach  itself  and  spring.  It  was 
a  man,  —  the  old  samurai  Onda.  Hagane  had  told  him  to  be 
there.  Before  interposition  could  be  made,  he  had  thrown 
himself  on  Pierre,  taken  Yuki  from  his  arms,  thrown  her 
back  in  the  kuruma,  and  stood  in  an  attitude  of  menace 
between  them.  "  Keep  your  hands  from  my  daughter !  Keep 
your  devil's  hands  from  the  Princess  Hagane! " 

"  Shall  we  interfere  ?  "  whispered  Todd  to  Hagane. 

"No,  I  can  do  all,"  he  said.  Then  to  Onda,  "Keep 
back,  old  friend.  It  is  his  right,  —  the  price  that  we  have 
paid." 

"Master,  Master,"  cried  the  kerai,  almost  sobbing  in  his 
excitement,  "let  me  slay  him — let  me  slay  all  three!  I 
will  die  the  self-death,  or  be  hanged,  with  equal  satisfaction. 
Only  let  me  slay !  " 

"These  others  are  just  men,  and  my  friends,"  said  Hagane 
gravely.  "The  young  madman  yonder  is  protected  by  my 
word.  We  must  think,  too,  of  Nippon." 

Old  Onda's  breathing  rasped  the  silence. 


422  THE  BREATH   OF  THE   GODS 

"Monsieur  Le  Beau,"  said  Hagane  again,  "you  are  fully 
determined  to  retain  the  body  —  and  give  her  name  to  public 
defamation  ?  " 

"What  else  is  there  for  me,  devil  ?" 

"  That  you  have  been  her  lover,  —  that  you  have  so  deeply 
injured  me,  —  is  that  not  enough  to  gloat  over  ?  " 

For  an  instant  Pierre  stared.  The  meaning  of  the  words 
came  to  him  with  a  relish.  Hagane  really  believed  this 
thing;  then  of  course  he  suffered!  Very  good!  A  look  of 
malignant  triumph  grew  in  Pierre's  face.  Hagane  drank  the 
bitterness  with  his  eyes.  Here,  at  last,  thought  Pierre,  was 
the  undipped  heel,  the  pervious  crown.  Yuki's  body  sagged 
an  inch.  Pierre  stooped  to  it.  Again  she  was  in  his  arms, 
and  he  devoured,  with  despairing  looks,  the  small,  dead 
face. 

Hagane,  by  a  fierce  gesture,  commanded  Onda  to  be  still. 
Todd  felt  his  heart  stop,  then  rise  slowly  to  his  throat,  and 
Ronsard,  shivering,  gripped  the  American's  arm.  The  moon 
sailed  full  into  a  cloudless  sky.  Beneath  it  the  great  tragedy 
lay  bare. 

The  trend  of  Pierre's  thoughts  at  this  moment  he  could 
never  afterward  recall.  His  flesh  felt  as  though  it  melted 
from  him.  His  brain  stirred  and  pulled  at  possibilities  before 
unfelt.  Voices  not  of  earth  said  strange  things  which  he 
almost  understood.  Yuki's  dead  smile  changed.  He  saw 
her  lips  quiver.  Her  white  face  grew  to  one  still  prayer. 
Something  like  a  cooling  fluid  went  into  his  hot  and  empty 
veins.  He  felt  strong  again  and  noble.  He  regarded  Yuki's 
accuser  with  a  new  look. 

"  You  lie  in  saying  that  thing,  Hagane.  Is  it  not  enough 
that  you  have  used,  and  then  slain  her,  that  you  now  traduce 
her  name?  No,  you  dare  not  resent  my  words,  coward, 
liar,  slanderer!  What  is  the  theft  of  a  paper  compared  to 
this?  For  Yuki's  sake,  I  tell  you  that  no  flower  hidden  in 
green  leaves,  no  girl-child  at  its  mother's  breast,  no  flake  of 
snow,  new-fallen,  is  purer  than  this  woman.  Yes,  grin  now 
and  tremble !  " 

He  went  swiftly  to  the  stricken  man,  and  dealt  him  a  blow 
upon  the  lips. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       423 

With  gasps  of  horror  the  others  rushed  in.  Hagane  caught 
Pierre  to  his  side,  and  fought  off  the  frenzied  Onda.  "  Back, 
all  of  you,  stand  off,  I  say !  "  he  thundered.  "  The  man  gives 
me  life.  Let  him  strike.  Yes,  yes,"  he  cried  to  Pierre,  all 
the  hauteur  and  the  terrible  bronze  composure  melted  in  this 
new  fierce  joy;  "tear  my  eyes  from  their  sockets,  my  tongue 
from  its  base,  —  only  repeat  that  she  is  pure !  How  could  I 
know?  She  let  me  think  it,  — your  boasts,  the  broken  hair- 
pin! Did  she  not  give  you  the  pledge  of  the  hairpin?" 

"I  took  it  myself,"  said  Pierre,  "and  would  not  give  it 
back,  though  she  pleaded.  How  could  I  guess  the  gross  sen- 
timent that  is  attached  to  the  silly  business  by  such  minds  as 
yours?  She  was  pure,  I  say;  give  me  her  body  and  let  me 
go!" 

Hagane  followed  him  to  the  kuruma.  He  stretched  out 
both  hands,  now  as  one  entreating  mercy.  "Poor  boy,  bound 
with  me  on  the  wheel  of  fate,  listen  just  a  little,  if  you  can 
command  your  strength.  She  shielded  you.  Then,  with  her 
life,  she  rebought  the  paper.  When  you  had  offered  to  give 
it  back,  if  I  would  consent  to  the  restitution  of  her  wifehood, 
I  asked  her  if  she  was  worthy  to  return,  and  in  her  conscious 
innocence,  she  gave  the  answer,  'No.'  She  thought  only  of 
the  unworthiness  of  weakness  —  she  whose  soul,  diluted  into 
eternity,  might  stock  a  Christian  heaven.  In  her  self-death, 
she  deliberately  let  me  believe  her  evil,  that  her  atonement 
might  have  this  added  bitterness.  Also  she  may  have  feared 
that,  being  undeceived,  I  might  falter  in  my  promise  not  to 
restrain  her  from  expiation.  She  knew  of  my  love,  and  we 
have  pledged  ourselves  to  reunion  and  joint  service  after 
death.  You  cannot  understand  these  things,  Monsieur." 

"No!"  said  Pierre,  in  bewilderment,  putting  his  hand  to 
his  forehead,  "I  cannot  understand,  of  course;  she  was 
always  saying  that.  I  cannot  understand,  but  something 
whispers  —  " 

"Monsieur,"  cried  Hagane,  "I  am  an  older,  graver  man. 
I  have  suffered  as  I  think  you  cannot  suffer.  Give  me  back 
the  boon  of  her  body ! " 

Pierre  blinked  and  wavered  in  the  path.  These  sudden 
shifting  currents  of  purpose  dazed  him.  The  strain  was 


424  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

tightening  again,  and  he  felt  the  premonitory  breath  of  fever. 
He  grasped  outward  into  the  air.  He  looked  at  Yuki,  as  if 
for  the  first  time,  and  moved  dumb  lips. 

"You  believed  this  of  your  wife,  yet  forgave — helped  — 
loved  her  —  You  look  forward  to  having  her  as  your  wife  in 
a  coming  re-birth?"  asked  Todd,  wondering. 

"Had  it  been  true,  it  was  but  sin  of  the  flesh.  By  death 
and  expiation,  she  would  have  cleansed  it.  The  soul  would 
have  risen,  free." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  what  people !  "  gasped  Eonsard.  "  There 
stands  the  man  Onda,  scowling  at  us  all,  —  and  not  even  re- 
senting, from  Hagane,  his  only  daughter's  death." 

"Onda  will  sacrifice  to  the  Gods  in  gratitude  when  he 
knows  the  whole,"  said  Hagane. 

Pierre  was  trying  to  speak.  He  vacillated,  soul  and  body, 
between  the  dead  woman  and  her  husband.  "  Do  not  refuse 
me,"  murmured  Hagane,  stepping  nearer. 

Pierre  did  not  shrink.  Instead,  he,  too,  went  near,  as  if 
fascinated.  He  cleared  his  throat,  pushed  back  the  damp 
hair  from  his  girlish  forehead,  and  smiled  up  at  the  dark, 
eager  face.  "Hagane  is  a  great  man,"  he  said,  tapping  the 
other's  arm.  "Oh,  he  is  a  terrible  man!  I  can  refuse  him 
nothing.  Yuki  says  that  the  Gods  of  this  land  speak  with 
him.  I  believe  it.  One  is  standing  just  behind  him  now; 
that  is  a  terrible  God,  too.  He  looks  like  Hagane.  He  sits 
like  a  white  flint  in  a  ball  of  fire.  On  his  arms  are  the  coils 
of  rope  that  bind  the  passions;  in  his  right  hand  is  the 
wheel  of  fate.  No,  I  will  not  refuse.  Old  God  must  have 
flowers  on  his  altar.  Take  white  flower,  old  War  God. 
There  she  is, —  my  love  —  my  darling.  If  only  she  would 
not  smile! " 

Hagane  caught  the  boy  as  he  fell,  transferring  the  burden 
quickly  to  Ronsard's  outstretched  arms.  He  gazed  then  anew 
at  the  face  of  his  wife. 

"Yuki,"  he  said,  as  if  to  her  listening  spirit,  "you  are  soul 
of  my  soul  through  ten  thousand  lives.  I  let  yon  die.  It  was 
karma.  A  flower  !  A  flower  !  Alas,  that  a  flower  should  be 
stung  by  immortality  !  " 

"  Get  her  away,  your  Highness,  before  we  call  the  servants 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       425 

and  a  doctor  for  Le  Beau,"  whispered  Todd,  after  an  agonizing 
interval.  Hagane  rose  from  his  knees. 

"  Yes,  little  Yuki  must  go  with  me,"  he  muttered ;  "  I  will 
take  her  at  once,  your  Excellency."  He  went  toward  the 
coolie  hat  and  stooped.  Onda  was  before  him. 

"  It  is  not  seemly,  Lord,  for  you  to  bear  so  foul  a  burden. 
I  will  wear  the  hat,  and  I  pray  you  take  these  shoes  of  mine, 
giving  me  the  straw  sandals." 

Hagane  obeyed  passively,  his  eyes  fixed  always  on  Yuki's 
moonlit  face.  Now  and  again  he  felt  in  the  bosom  of  his 
robe  for  the  paper. 

"  Loosen  the  robe  from  your  girdle,  Master,"  pleaded  the 
kerai. 

Hagane  did  so,  releasing  the  caught-up  ends.  The  long, 
dark  garment,  though  of  cotton,  restored  to  him  the  height 
and  dignity  of  his  usual  presence. 

"  Shall  I  draw  the  hood  of  the  kuruma  ?  "  asked  Onda. 

"  Yes,  cover  her  face,  —  her  small  white  face ;  the  very 
night  may  weep  and  falter  at  that  smile." 

Onda  tucked  up  his  robe,  put  on  the  wide  hat  and  the  straw 
sandals,  placed  himself  between  the  shafts,  and  started  along 
the  driveway. 

Hagane,  moving  always  slowly,  abstractedly,  folded  his 
arms,  bowed  his  head,  and  followed  in  the  attitude  of  a 
mourner  immediately  behind  the  covered  vehicle. 

"  Take  my  burden  for  a  moment,"  pleaded  Ronsard,  when 
the  sound  of  wheels  had  quite  died  away.  "  I  can  support  — 
no  longer.  Let  me  summon  aid.  Mon  Dieu!  this  night  has 
made  of  me  an  old  man." 

"  It  has  made  of  me  a  prophet,"  said  Todd, "  for  I  have  met 
Immortals  face  to  face." 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-ONE 

THE  sumptuous  obsequies  of  the  young  Princess  Hagane, 
become  so  suddenly  and  so  securely  a  leading  figure  in  Tokio's 
official  life  ;  her  mysterious  death  (heart  failure,  the  obliging 
papers  called  it);  Hagane's  immediate  departure  for  the  seat 
of  war;  Pierre  Le  Beau's  re-capture  and  long,  desperate  ill- 
ness (with  relapses  brought  on  by  further  crafty  flights,  ter- 
minating always  in  a  certain  hillside  grave),  — these  events 
co-existent,  co-related,  formed,  inevitably,  dazzling  bits  of 
speculation  pieceable  together  into  various  strange  patterns. 

Outwardly  the  tragedy  was  as  free  from  suspicion  as  any 
such  shocking  occurrence  well  could  be.  The  funeral,  in 
deference  to  Yuki's  Christian  conversion,  was  held  in  the 
little  American  Episcopal  chapel  in  Tsukijii,  Tokio;  the 
American  Bishop,  assisted  by  members  of  the  native  clergy, 
conducting  the  ceremony  in  Japanese.  Hagane,  ponderous, 
brooding,  and  self-contained,  had  walked  immediately  behind 
the  flower-laden  burden.  The  scowling  Tetsujo,  with  Iriya, 
followed  him.  Suzume  was  there,  alone,  for  she  had  refused 
the  petition  of  Maru  San.  Next  to  the  family  came  Gwen- 
dolen, shivering,  slender,  wound  in  crepe,  on  the  arm  of  Mr. 
Dodge.  Behind  her  walked  Cyrus  Todd  and  Mrs.  Todd,  both 
in  mourning. 

The  strained  decorum  of  the  crowded  congregation  was 
threatened  twice ;  first,  when  old  Suzume,  bearing  a  sprig  of 
the  mystic  mochi  tree,  tottered  up  the  aisle,  and  began  praying 
aloud  to  the  black  thing  into  which  her  nursling  had  been 
nailed;  and  later,  just  after  the  words  of  the  Bishop,  "I  am 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  when  Gwendolen  fainted 
quietly  away. 

After  the  prescribed  nine  days  of  gossip  and  conjecture,  ill-, 
natured  ones  turned  their  eyes  to  the  Todds,  and  chiefly  to 
Gwendolen.  The  deep  withdrawal  of  the  two  ladies  from  the 


427 

social  world  of  Tokio,  the  mourning  garments  worn  by  them, 
were  interpreted  by  some  observers  as  mere  stinginess,  an 
excuse  to  abstain  from  lavish  Legation  hospitality;  but  by 
a  larger  number  as  "  bids  "  for  Japanese  popularity.  Also 
many  of  the  fair  sex  among  European  Legations  declared 
(Mon  Dieu !  it  was  obvious !)  that  Gwendolen  had  seized  upon 
this  dank  method  for  the  securing  of  Dodge, — the  young 
American  attache  known  to  be  so  madly  in  love  with  Carmen 
Gil  y  Niestra.  Gwendolen's  ever-growing  intimacy  with  Iriya 
Onda,  and  the,  pathetic  content  shown  by  the  elder  woman  in 
the  company  cf  her  dead  child's  closest  friend,  were  charged 
to  the  columns  of  the  former  category.  "  The  Hawk's  Eye" 
expatiated  upon  these  congenial  themes.  The  Misses  Stunt 
gave  an  afternoon  tea  with  all  of  the  catering  done  in 
Yokohama. 

Later  on,  when  cherry-blossoms  covered  the  whole  land 
in  a  perfumed  glory,  Mrs.  Todd  answered  timidly  by  a 
bunch  of  artificial  violets  on  her  spring  bonnet.  Gwendolen 
still  kept  to  simple  black,  and  it  was  averred  that  she  did 
so  knowing  how  marvellously  it  contrasted  with  the  pearly 
tints  of  her  flesh  and  the  nervous  gold  tendrils  of  her  hair. 
Never  had  Gwendolen  been  more  beautiful  nor,  in  a  strange, 
deep,  half-comprehending  way,  more  tranquilly  happy.  The 
light  of  heroism  had  come  too  near  ever  quite  to  fade. 
Love,  also,  had  come,  and  on  the 'very  wings  of  despair. 
Yet,  behind  these  facts,  was  a  something  unspeakable,  pre- 
cious, vague,  —  a  something  apprehended  by  Dodge  also. 
Even  as  the  two  happy  ones  stood  together  with  eyes  look- 
ing level  toward  vistas  of  almost  certain  human  joy,  each 
felt  that  compared  with  the  passion  of  the  two  immortals, 
now  gone  from  their  lives,  this  rapture  was  like  the  glad 
hearts  of  children.  Often  they  spoke  of  Yuki  and  her  hus- 
band. "Oh,  but  they  knew  that  they  were  to  meet,"  Gwen- 
dolen had  cried  again  and  again.  "Yuki  is  with  him  now, 
—  and  after  this  war,  after  his  last  duty  to  his  country  and 
to  his  Emperor,  — they  will  find  each  other!  " 

Of  poor  Pierre,  after  his  departure  for  France  accompanied 
by  Count  Eonsard,  none  of  the  Todd  household  ever  spoke. 


428  THE  BREATH   OF  THE  GODS 

Once,  some  months  after  the  return  of  the  latter  to  Tokio, 
Mrs.  Todd,  in  a  hushed  whisper,  as  if  she  were  guilty  of  an 
indiscretion,  asked  a  single  question.  The  answer  was  as 
brief  and  furtive.  In  a  certain  sense  it  relieved  the  con- 
science of  the  interlocutrix,  while  it  shadowed  her  compla- 
cency. Neither  question  nor  answer  was  ever  retailed  to 
Gwendolen. 

But  all  this  came  much  later.  The  spring  immediately 
following  Yuki's  death  went  by  in  a  shimmer  of  winds, 
scurrying  clouds,  and  whirling  petals.  Summer  smiled  her 
deeper  green  in  rice-fields  under  the  glint  and  blur  of  rain. 
Then,  like  a  stately  deity  for  whose  feet  the  shining  carpet 
had  been  spread,  a  golden  autumn  came. 

On  the  hills  vermilion  maples  burned,  each  leaf  so  deeply 
dyed  that  its  shadow  on  the  sand  was  red.  Hedges  of  dodan 
ruled  fiery  angles  over  the  green  lines  that  summer  had  drawn. 
Small  carts,  man-pulled,  with  pots  of  sunny,  stiff  chrysanthe- 
mums, crawled  in  by  dewy  morning  lanes  toward  the  focus 
of  the  capital.  Harvesting  of  grain  began,  and,  presiding 
over  it,  the  deity  of  a  large,  slow  moon.  In  suburban  dis- 
tricts the  people  held  festivals  and  made  offerings  of  tea, 
vegetables,  and  money  to  Inari  Sama  and  her  two  lean  fox- 
spirits,  for  the  slaying  of  rice-insects,  demanded  by  the 
summer's  agricultural  toil. 

Meantime  war  had  raged  on  land  and  sea.  The  slopes  of 
Port  Arthur  had  been  drenched  already  in  insufficient  blood. 
Great  battles  on  the  Yalu,  epoch-making  in  enormity  and 
heroism,  had  been  not  quite  great  enough.  The  Russians, 
always  strongly  fortified,  numbering  always  more  than  the 
army  of  their  opponents,  were  able  to  keep  decisive  ruin 
for  themselves  at  bay.  The  Japanese  people  did  not  know 
a  wavering  strand  of  faith.  They  believed  always  in  their 
ultimate  victory.  Each  hero,  checked  in  his  duty  by  Russian 
steel,  became  on  the  instant  a  flaming  spirit  of  war.  The 
mangled  body  might  be  tucked  away  in  Manchurian  clay,  or 
sent,  as  a  sacred  relic,  to  the  beloved  homeland ;  but  the  freed 
spirit  hung  about  its  brethren,  and  fought  with  invincible 
weapons  for  the  common  cause.  The  women  of  Japan  worked 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       429 

indefatigably.  Few  lamentations  rose  from  them.  They 
•would  have  considered  tears  disloyal.  The  Emperor,  behind 
his  gray  moat-walls,  —  half  man,  half  God  to  them,  —  sent 
down  his  heart  among  the  people.  His  was  the  suffering 
and  the  loss,  —  and  victory,  when  it  came,  was  to  be  his. 

Late  in  October,  at  the  American  Legation,  the  doors  once 
more  stood  wide.  Pots  of  chrysanthemums  in  full  bloom 
crowded  near  the  entrance,  and  climbed,  in  groups  of  two 
and  three,  the  edges  of  the  stone  steps,  as  if  leading  a  golden 
invitation.  Gwendolen,  that  morning,  standing  among  them, 
had  dwelt  in  thought  upon  another  time,  scarcely  a  year  past, 
when  she  and  Yuki  had  laughed  together  among  such  shaggy 
blooms,  when  their  hands  had  been  tinctured  by  the  stems 
of  them  and  the  air  of  long  reception-rooms  flooded  with  the 
medicinal  fragrance.  She  did  not  weep,  only  stretched  her 
arms  outward,  whispering,  "  Yuki,  Yuki,  —  I  know  you  are 
with  him ;  but  just  this  one  day,  —  my  wedding-day,  —  come 
back  to  me !  " 

The  marriage  ceremony  was  to  take  place  in  the  drawing- 
room.  After  a  luncheon  to  a  score  or  more  of  intimate 
friends,  the  young  couple  were  to  go  for  a  quiet  sojourn  to 
Nara.  This  was  the  first  occasion  since  Yuki's  death  that 
the  American  girl  had  worn  a  color.  At  the  appointed  hour 
she  stood  within  the  green-hung  window  recess  like  an  Easter 
lily,  all  white  and  gold,  —  a  broad  white  cloth  hat,  touched 
with  knots  of  amber.  The  silent  little  wedding  company 
drew  close.  The  Bishop  cleared  his  throat  professionally. 
One  heard  the  words,  "Dearly  Beloved"  before  he  uttered 
them.  At  that  moment,  a  bird,  attracted  maybe  by  the  tall 
white  flower  within,  flew  straight  against  the  pane,  and  beat 
against  it  with  fluttering  wings.  Gwendolen  looked  up 
quickly.  Her  lips  moved.  "Yuki!  Yuki!  is  it  you?"  she 
was  saying.  Dodge  pressed  tightly  the  arm  within  his  own. 

In  spite  of  strong  efforts  on  the  part  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Todd 
to  be  at  ease,  a  vague  mist  of  sadness  floated  in  the  wide 
rooms. 

"  There  's  something  awfully  doleful  about  things  here," 
confided  a  guest  to  the  ubiquitous  Mrs.  Stunt. 


430  THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Oh,  it 's  that  Hagane  woman  who  died  —  or  was  murdered 
In  her  bed — last  spring.  The  Legation  has  been  about  as 
cheerful  as  a  morgue  ever  since.  Very  inconsiderate  to  us 
Americans,  I  take  it!  " 

Mr.  Todd  saw  the  faces  of  the  whisperers,  and  could  guess 
the  trend  of  their  words.  He  shook  himself  together,  and 
swore  that  in  some  way  he  would  manage  to  dispel  the 
gathering  gloom.  Now  he  rushed  from  one  guest  to  another, 
his  dry  wit  and  quaint  remarks  soon  attracting  general  atten- 
tion. Dodge  understood,  and  seconded  him  with  zest.  Mrs. 
Todd  stopped  the  sniffling  she  had  just  begun,  and  produced 
a  diluted  smile;  the  company,  catching  the  infection,  tumbled, 
one  over  the  heels  of  another,  in  the  race  for  a  precarious 
joy.  The  rooms  began  to  echo  laughter, — servants  smiled 
as  they  stole  about.  A  twig  of  mistletoe,  sent  all  the  way 
from  North  Carolina,  was  discovered  hanging  from  the  tongue 
of  the  floral  bell.  Kissing  of  the  bride  was  attempted,  and 
the  time-worn  jests,  pertinent  to  the  occasion,  indulged  in  up 
to  the  point  of  friction. 

It  was  at  last  a  company  of  real  wedding  guests  that 
took  places  at  the  table.  Japanese  flower  symbols  of  wedded 
bliss  touched  elbows  with  still  American  vases  jammed  thick 
with  stemless  flowers.  The  favors  were  chrysanthemums  in 
enamel,  gold,  and  topaz.  Todd  saw  that  the  champagne  was 
not  delayed.  He  knew  the  potency  to  scatter  thought  sent 
up  by  those  springing  globules  of  mirth.  "Fill,  — all!  "  he 
cried,  standing,  "  a  toast,  a  toast  to  the  bride !  " 

Laughing  faces  turned  as  one  toward  Gwendolen,  enthroned 
in  a  great  teakwood  chair.  She  flushed  to  a  rose,  under  the 
big  hat,  but  murmured,  so  that  her  words  could  be  heard,  — 
"  I  accept,  and  drink  with  you,  —  against  precedent ! " 

As  the  others  lifted  brittle  stems,  she,  emptying  swiftly 
the  sunny  fluid,  poured  a  little  water  into  her  glass.  The 
drinking  of  water  as  a  pledge  is  used  between  Japanese  as 
a  token  of  death,  of  love,  in  death  and  beyond  it.  Dodge, 
his  bright  eyes  swimming  in  tenderness,  did  as  she  had  done. 
While  the  company  drained  the  conventional  felicity,  — this 
young  couple,  in  silence,  unnoticed  by  those  who  crowded 
most  closely,  drank  the  pledge  of  love  and  loyalty  to  Yuki's 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  GODS       431 

freed  spirit.  Had  it  been  possible  for  any  face  to  be  more 
beautiful  than  Gwendolen's,  she  —  on  catching  sight  of  her 
husband  as  the  water  touched  his  lips  —  now  outrivalled 
herself. 

Todd  had  seen  but  could  not  join  them.  He  was  self-con- 
stituted master  of  ceremonies.  "Next,  my  new  son,  Mr. 
Dodge ! "  he  cried  aloud. 

"Hear!  hear!  "  clamored  the  company. 

"And  next,"  said  Todd,  "to  that  great  man,  the  Japanese 
Emperor ! " 

"  The  Emperor,  the  Emperor ! "  ejaculated  Dodge,  with 
such  vehemence  that  the  assembly  had  to  join  or  be  deafened. 
"Banzai  Nippon!"  roared  Dodge.  "Banzai  Nippon!" 
vociferated  Todd. 

"Banzai  Nippon!"  the  servants  echoed  in  excited  under- 
breaths  as  they  hurried  back  to  pantry  and  kitchen. 

"  Banzai  Nippon !  "  cried  the  waiting  betto  and  the  kuruma 
men  outside,  at  first  hint  of  the  call. 

"Banthai  Nip-pon!  "  lisped  the  the  cook's  baby,  who  sat 
well  under  the  kitchen-table  to  escape  being  trod  upon,  and 
scraped  out  a  foreign  cake-bowl  with  a  single  chopstick. 

But  Yuki  —  a  snowflake  fallen  on  the  windy  slope  of 
Aoyama  —  slept  on,  smiling,  with  Hagane's  dagger  in  her 
heart;  and  on  a  rocky  promontory  across  from  the  impregna- 
ble fortress  of  Liau  Tung,  a  grim,  quiet  warrior  sat  alone,  with 
field-glasses  dangling  limply  from  his  hands,  and  eyes  that 
saw  only  a  white,  white  face  upturned  to  his,  and  lips  that 
murmured,  "I  know  you  now,  my  husband,  — and  shall  wait! 
Banzai  Nippon !  "  while  the  cold  steel  crept  nearer  to  a  warm 
and  shrinking  heart. 

Banzai  Nippon  ! 


The  Most  Lovable  Heroine  in  Modern  Fiction 


TRUTH  DEXTER 


By  SIDNEY  McCALL 
Author  of  "  The  Breath  of  the  Gods  " 

12mo.     375  pages.     $1.50 

A  novel  of  united  North  and  South  of  rare  power  and 
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Exceptionally  clever  and  brilliant,  it  has  what  are  rarely 
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World. 

I  don't  know  how  to  praise  it  enough.  I  can't  recall  any 
novel  which  has  interested  me  so  absorbingly  for  years. 
It  is  a  matchless  book  !  —  Louise  Chandler  Moulton. 

The  author  at  once  takes  place  among  the  foremost 
novelists  of  the  day.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  story  that  compels  attention  from  start  to  finish. — 
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THE  WOOD-CARVER 
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By  M.  E.  WALLER 
Author  of  "  A  Daughter  of  the  Rich,"  etc. 

With  frontispiece  by  Chase  Emerson.    12mo.    311  pages.    $1.50 

A  strong  tale  of  human  loves  and  hopes  set  in  a  back- 
ground of  the  granite  mountain-tops  of  remote  New  Eng- 
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Hugh  Armstrong,  the  hero,  is  one  of  the  pronouncedly  high 
class  character  delineations  of  a  quarter  century.  —  Boston 
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It  is  a  book  which  does  one  good  to  read  and  which  is  not 
readily  forgotten ;  for  in  it  are  mingled  inextricably  the  ele- 
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feeling  which  uplifts  and  humanizes.  — Harry  Thruston  Peck, 
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A  few  books  are  published  every  year  that  really  minister 
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a  more  satisfying  art.  —  Amos  R.  Wells,  in  Christian  Endeavor 
World.  

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A  Masterpiece  of  Native  Humor 


SUSAN  CLEGG  AND  HER 
FRIEND  MRS.  LATHROP 


67  ANNE  WARNER 
Author  of  "  A  Woman's  Will,"  etc. 

With  Frontispiece.     227  pages.     12mo.     $1.00. 

IT  is  seldom  a  book  so  full  of  delightful  humor  comes 
before  the  reader.    Anne  Warner  takes  her  place  in  the 
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Nothing  better  in  the  new  homely  philosophy  style  of 
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Susan  is  a  positive  contribution  to  the  American  char- 
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Susan  Clegg  is  a  living  creature,  quite  as  amusing  and 
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Mr.  Oppenheim's  most  Romantic  Novel 


THE 
MASTER  MUMMER 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Author  of  "  A  Prince  of  Sinners,"  "  Anna  the  Adventuress," 
"^Mysterious  Mr.  Sabin,"  etc. 

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ceived. The  strange  adventures  that  befel  the  young 
Princess  of  the  imaginary  kingdom  of  Bartena,  and  the 
significant  part  the  mysterious  "  Master  Mummer "  plays 
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There  are  several  English  novelists  of  the  day  whose 
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stretch  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  a  story,  he  is  easily 
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